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#of course i finally made it to the finish line with this piece yesterday
trappedinvacancy · 2 years
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pleasingforharry · 2 years
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can you please please please write more about college harry? maybe how they met and how they started to date and everything? its my favorite🥺🥺🥺🥺
Of courseee, I love these two :)
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college!harry x quiet!yn
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How They Met
Y/N was close to the coach of the college’s soccer team due to her dad being best friends with him for years. She had known Coach James since she was in middle school as he was over for every event and ‘guy night’ hosted at her childhood home. She got to the point where she just called him Uncle James, and he was ecstatic by the name because he had no siblings to have kids that would call him that.
Even though Y/N was quiet and hated being the center of attention, she still made the effort to visit Coach James on the field while his team practiced. She’d try to talk to him while the team was doing drills at the soccer goal so she could have only his attention on her. He was very aware of Y/N’s personality, and being the uncle he always wanted to be, he had a very protective side over her. If she was uncomfortable around his boys, he’d send them off for more drills.
The team was currently doing sprints from the goal line to the half and back. Y/N cautiously walked up the steep hill to the soccer field and immediately spotted Coach James watching the boys from a far enough distance. The assistant coach was at the half-line, making sure the player’s cleats touched the bold line before they turned around to run the other way. 
Y/N had a new camera in her hand that she was eager to show Coach James because he was one of the few who knew of her secret hobby. And she was also just informed by her dad that Coach James was also behind the reasonings she had the camera. She bit her lip in excitement and picked up her speed to reach him.
His arms were tightly crossed with dark shades over his eyes as he chewed harshly on an innocent piece of gum. His attention was mostly on his two star players, Harry and Louis, as they led the group, yelling encouraging words to the ones falling behind. The actual captains were too out of breath to speak, so the underclassmen did it for them. Coach James was proud of those two boys and really hoped to keep their futures bright.
While he nodded at their quick feet, he suddenly felt a presence approach him. He knew exactly who it was because she was the only person who wouldn’t announce herself from afar in fear that others would notice she was there too. So, when she was close enough, she finally spoke up.
“Uncle James, they just had a tough game yesterday. They’re tired,” she immediately defended the slower players with beat red faces. She reached Coach James side and bumped his side with her hip.
“It was a tough game because they weren’t doing good, so they need to get better,” He simply counterargued with a slight laugh. “How’s your day going, kiddo?”
It was then when Coach James finally looked down at Y/N to notice the new camera situated in her hands with the strap around her neck. His lips immediately curled into a smirk as he saw the hidden excitement in her eyes. She wasn’t one to completely express her emotions, but he knew her well enough to know what she was feeling.
“Amazing, actually. Dad told me that you chipped in on the camera so I came to thank you tremendously,” She smiled, wrapped an arm around him in a side hug. Coach James chuckled and brought her close.
“Of course, kiddo. I didn’t know your other one broke so you stopped taking pictures for some time, but when your dad told me he wanted to buy you a new one, I was all in,” He explained as they parted. “If you love photography so much, just tell me if you need anything for it. New camera, new SD card, new bag, new models—” He motioned to his players currently falling to their knees as they finished their last round of sprints.
They both laughed together as he pointed to one of the players trying to walk in a straight line but ended up wobbling and falling to the turf ground.
“I mean, maybe game pictures, not practice pictures. The headlines would definitely caption this as abuse,” Y/N shook her head.
“Well, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about, and I’m glad you brought your camera with you,” Coach James started but cleared his throat before continuing. “Our current photographer is not a fan favorite with the boys because every picture he takes just comes out horrible. So, I’m kind of in the need for a new team photographer that would come to our games, some practices, and take pictures,” He explained, cautiously watching Y/N’s face as it contorted different expressions.
“Oh,” She sighed, nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Uncle James. I can’t even talk normally with any of them.”
“You really don’t have to say anything to them, kiddo. Just take pictures from the sidelines, that’s all,” Coach James shrugged, sliding his shades up his head and smiling reassuringly at her. “I can talk to them about keeping their distance from you.”
“No,” She immediately shut that idea down. “I’m not a baby, I can be around them. I’m just not as hyper and talkative as them so I don’t think I’ll be able to be their uppity photographer best friend.”
Coach James stared down at his niece figure and placed his arm around her shoulder. The boys were surrounding their assistant coach with all their backs to Y/N, just as she liked.
“Stay for the rest of practice, take some pictures when they scrimmage and try it out. If you hate it, then that’s perfectly fine and I won’t ask you to take any more. How’s that?” Coach James compromised, walking Y/N slowly to the group.
“I can do that,” she nodded, lifting the camera to her eyes and focusing on the boys huddle. She snapped a quick picture of them before showing the screen to Coach James. He hovered his hand over it to block the sun but then smiled at the perfect framed picture of the team.
He raised his hand up and Y/N gladly accepted his high-five. “That’s front cover material,” He praised at his niece figure.
So, like he asked, Y/N stayed around to shoot more pictures, and the boys finally realized she was there as she stood near the goal to capture Harry tucking the ball in the top corner. His eyes met Y/N when she dropped the camera from her face, noticing his lingering stare. His lips instantly grew into a wide smile as he recognized the familiar girl he’d see in the front of his French class. 
The rest of the boys jogged to their starting positions to reset the field, but Harry slowly walked backwards, keeping his attention on the awkward girl.
“Did ya like tha’ beautiful goal?” He asked her as he wiggled his brows. Y/N only shrugged, moving down the sideline to find other players to take pictures of. Harry frowned from her quiet response, but tried to shrug it off and focus on the next play.
Something was going on in Harry’s head as he weirdly wanted the attention of someone besides Coach James. He loved the praise he’d get for his outstanding footwork and powerful shoots, but that day, his eyes wouldn’t stop searching for the girl behind the camera.
Every time he’d outrun his opponent down the sideline and play a perfect cross for the Forward to score with, his head would whip in her direction, hoping her eyes were on him. And when they were, he’d subtly wave and tip his chin up. Y/N’s lips would stay in a straight line as she nodded back before looking down at the screen of her camera.
For the rest of practice, Harry was getting desperate. His teammates realized he was being a little extra with his footwork and hogging the ball to make good action shot poses. Y/N was oblivious to his tactics as she never watched soccer and didn’t know that holding the ball to yourself for that long, even though your teammates are open, is a little petty. She just did her job by taking more and more pictures, mostly of Harry because he always had the ball, and moving down the sidelines.
Coach James smirked to himself as he watched one of his star players show off to his niece. It was cute that a boy would do that for her because she really didn’t get that type of attention. He watched Y/N turn herself away from the field to roll her lips inwards as a smile warned to spread. And due to her red undertone, there was an obvious blush that he caught. He glanced back at Harry who had lost all interest in the game as he wondered if Y/N was alright. 
When she finally collected herself, she turned back around but her eyes widened as she caught Harry watching her. He waved at her again before throwing up a thumbs up as a question. Y/N looked behind her, thinking he was asking someone else, and he could feel his heart squeeze at her oblivion. She turned back and mimicked his gesture, which he nodded at and went back to playing. Coach James watched the whole thing.
Y/N habit of wiping the corners of her mouth when she was nervous in any type of way didn’t go unnoticed by Coach James. He muttered, “Well I’ll be damned,” under his breath as he realized Y/N might’ve caught a romantic eye for one his players. And he was feeling the same way. But Coach James knew Harry; the frat boy.
By the end of practice, Coach James waited for Harry outside the locker room to pull him over. He was a little worried that he would be punished for his actions because he wasn’t being slick about it. 
His shades were back over his eyes as he hovered over his tall player. “Her name is Y/N and she’s my niece, and she loves photography and ice cream. She’s quiet and avoids most social interactions, especially with boys because they used to pick on her for being ‘fragile’,” He started with a serious tone. Harry listened confusedly, but still noted his words. “She’s gotten better but still isn’t good with attention, and I would never force her to overcome that unless she wants to get better.”
“Why are you telling me this, Coach?”
He raised his hand to stop Harry. “You are not the most innocent boy here, and I have an idea of your history. You live in the most popular frat house and Y/N has told me stories of the things that happen at your parties because her roommate would always force her to join her.”
Harry stared at his coach with slight defeat as he realized what he was trying to say. It was unlike him to care what adults said to him because if he wanted something, he’d get it, but this felt different. Y/N didn’t seem like something he’d want to tousle with so carelessly.
“I saw you both today and I know you were planning on talking to her after practice, so I’m here to make sure you think before you act,” Coach James took a step closer to Harry. “Y/N is not just an innocent body for you to use for the night. She is a girl with feelings and won’t take your games so lightly if you play her the wrong way. I’m warning you, as her uncle, that if I find out you treated her like a frat boy, we will have problems. And as you coach, you will be on that bench more than the field.”
It was easy to take Coach James’ threat as Harry was thinking just like him. It didn’t even cross his mind to treat Y/N like he would’ve with any girl. And he had to talk to her to figure out why he suddenly felt that way.
So, to Coach James’ threat, Harry nodded and reached out to shake hands with him. “Yes, sir.” They stared at each other for a long minute until a presence was felt beside them. They both whipped their head to Y/N standing shyly near them. Lucky for them, she hadn’t heard their whole conversation about her, just his threat to be benched if he did something.
Y/N eyes were on Harry at first, staring at him in awe from up close. He was taller than she expected and, for a guy that just played a long scrimmage, smelled amazing.
When she realized she was eyeing him for too long, she quickly switched to her uncle and motioned to her camera. “I’ll be the team’s photographer if I have time to stop by. I probably won’t be here all the time so I’ll take twice as many pictures to last for a while,” She explained. 
Coach James smiled and walked towards her, Harry following behind.
“I’ll accept that, thanks for your work today, kiddo,” He nodded, rubbing her shoulder. “Are you on your way back to your dorm?”
“No, I was going to get ice cream. I’m craving both strawberry and cookies and cream,” She shrugged, noticing Harry’s eyes intensely on her.
She loves photography and ice cream.
“Alright, enjoy your treat then. I’ll see you soon,” Coach James laughed as he turned to walk towards the parking lot where his car was situated. He swiftly darted his eyes to Harry, which the player shooed him away and brought his attention to Y/N.
She was looking down at her camera as she walked in the opposite direction. He quickly made it to her side and smiled. “Do you mind if I join you? I think after all those goals, I can definitely celebrate with some ice cream.” Y/N rolled her eyes at him.
“Narcissist, are you?” She snarled with a lifted brow.
“Or I’m just amazing at soccer and can’t help but be proud of my hard work,” Harry shrugged, assuming she was okay with him coming with her as she didn’t decline him. “I’m Harry, by the way. I’ve seen you come around the field quite a few times. Haven’t gotten the chance to actually talk.”
 “I know you from that one party I went to. I remember hating you. I’m Y/N,” she said bluntly, turning off her camera. Harry paused as he was a little taken back by her sudden confession. Also, he never recalled ever seeing her at any of their parties because if he did, he would’ve wanted to remember her. But again, he was always too busy fucking girls in his bedroom to take notice. “I’m not having sex with you, I just want ice cream tonight,” She sighed.
Harry slowly smiled as he stared down at the girl. She was very interesting with her simple features and introverted personality. He really wanted to know more. 
“I just want ice cream tonight too. And to be around you, which I’m already really enjoying,” Harry boldly spoke the last part to her. She glanced over at him and gave him a quick look up and down. The fact she was very calm about her current situation was a little concerning to her. But all she could think about, after long hours of classes, was ice cream.
“Why? You don’t know me.”
Harry shrugged, “I know, but I’d like to change that, if you’ll let me.” He whipped out an endearing smile that Y/N couldn’t help but be immediately swooned by. God, she hated the power Harry already had over her, but she was gonna make sure he didn’t know that.
“I don’t have much to offer, so don’t have any expectations.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Y/N cringed and shook her shoulders. “Ew, don’t say that like I’m one of your professors.” Harry chuckled at her soft gag and shiver.
“My bad, love.”
Y/N was very confused that she was okay with one of her least favorite things in the world, a college boy, join her to have ice cream. She loved to sit in the corner of her favorite parlor and eat alone because nothing could ruin her in those moments. But now she had allowed some boy to keep her company, which is something she didn’t know she’d learn to love.
“So, frat boy Harry, what’s your favorite ice cream flavor? And there is a right answer,” she smirked up at him.
Harry rolled his lips inwards as his heart started harshly pounding for the first time in a long time about a girl.
-
How They Started Dating
Harry was in Y/N’s dorm, waiting for her to get back from class. He had slept over that night and decided to stay in her room so afterwards, he could have her all to himself for a few hours before they went to practice together and any lingering eyes could be on her. After many weeks of photographing and having Harry and Coach James’ protection, Y/N was feeling better about being around the team. She wasn’t best friends with any of them, but their eyes weren’t bothering her like before. And Harry made sure they kept their attention on anything else besides his current crush.
Earlier that day, he had received a text from his frat house groupchat that they invited a handful of girls over to watch a movie and play some games. It might’ve sounded like an innocent hang out, but he knew exactly what he was being offered. Sex.
No doubt Harry would’ve been there in less than ten minutes, no matter where he was, but for an important reason to him, he wasn’t interested at all. He just continued to throw his soccer ball in the air and catch it with his fingertips before shooting it back up. He was laying on Y/N’s bed, surrounded by her heavy scent of cinnamon and apples. It was heaven, and he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
When Niall realized Harry hadn’t messaged his arrival time, he decided to call him. He was the first to notice a change in Harry over the passing weeks. It wasn’t like him to decline every opportunity to have his cock deep in some random girl’s mouth until his come shot down her throat and that was the last time he ever spoke to her. Harry was always the most eager to have girls over and immediately get down to business. That was a reasoning for his popularity around the campus.
“H, what’s going on?” Niall cut straight to the chase when he answered.
“Nothing, why?” Harry shrugged with his phone held between his shoulder and ear as he spun the soccer ball on his fingertip.
“Did you not see my text? Girls, our house, movies, games, bedrooms, alone. You should’ve gotten it right away,” Niall scoffed by his friend’s apparent oblivion.
Harry rolled his eyes, “I understood what you were saying, Niall, but I’m not interested. Don’t let me stop you from hosting, though.”
Niall stared at his phone in shock with his hand slapped on his forehead. He double checked to make sure he was on the phone with the right person because even though the voice was the same, his words were the complete opposite of his true self. He hated how Harry was becoming some sort of holy virgin who avoided all seduction that was thrown his way.
“Where are you? Are you busy or something? I mean, it’s not like you wouldn’t move everything out the way for this opportunity,” Niall asked, still trying to understand what was happening to his best friend.
Just then, footsteps grew louder as they approached the door, harmonized with slow grumbling. Harry’s smile instantly grew as the ticking hours counted down to only a few seconds. He turned to his side with his head still snuggled in her pillow.
“I’m hanging out with a friend, okay? I have to go, have fun,” Harry brushed Niall off and immediately hung up before tossing his phone to the side.
His heart rapidly pounded as the door unlocked and the handle was pushed down to reveal the girl he had been thinking about since the night before when she overtook his dreams. The only thing that caught him off guard was the deep frown on her face.
She didn’t acknowledge Harry’s presence, at first, as she threw her bag near her closet and walked to her bed. She slammed her hands on the mattress, right near his stomach and muttered under her breath.
Even though she was in an obvious pissy mood, Harry still couldn’t get over how surreal she was. Her head dropped down with her hair falling to cover her face. Harry reached out to push the loose strands behind her ear and lifted her chin to his level. Her eyes didn’t meet his as she was still uncomfortable with that kind of contact.
“I missed you,” Harry spoke first, running his hand down her arm that stayed planted on her bed. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you, pretty girl?”
"Boys are so stupid,” She muttered. “Why do I even bother interacting with them? They just itch me in all the wrong ways. Their fucking rude, misogynistic, and straight up idiots. Like, of course, with my luck, I have to partner up with the most grating person ever and do all the work because he can't even read to the letter 'g’," she grumbled, covering her eyes with one of her hands.
Harry continued to stare at her, taken aback by her outburst because she never spoke like that around him. She always waited until she was alone to let out her frustration. But he was glad she felt comfortable enough to speak like that in front of him. It was a step in the right direction to having her like he wanted.
"That’s annoying," Harry commented. Y/N finally looked over at him with a shy smile, making his heart literally explode. She was so fucking pretty. 
"Yeah, agreed," she giggled, “I thought you’d be back at the frat with your friends, making out with some hot girls.” Harry rolled his eyes and hit her in the shoulder, which made her laugh.
“Not interested in making out with some hot girl if it isn’t you,” Harry bluntly spoke, tapping her lips boldly. Y/N instantly blushed, trying to hide her cheek in her shoulder as they both felt that giddish tickle in their stomachs.
Y/N sighed, leaning forward so she was almost hovering over Harry’s face. “One of your girl friends asked where you went last night. You left her in your bedroom and didn’t return her texts,” She said in a whisper, remembering the nasty interaction she had with that girl. “Then she wanted to know if you were going to be at the frat house today for the movie and sex night planned.”
Harry instantly realized why Y/N mentioned making out with other girls, just by the way she spoke. He frowned as he watched her knowingly stare at him. A small smirk was spread across her face, but it was lingering with a hint of sadness. Y/N was quickly falling for this guy who wouldn't leave her alone, even though she grew to love it. She knew he was a typical frat boy who couldn't resist the girls that threw themselves at him, but she had hoped she was good enough to make him stop.
They weren’t dating so Harry wasn’t obligated to give all of himself to Y/N. She had to make it known that no one else should have him but her. The problem was, Y/N was terrible at doing that. She wasn’t good at expressing her feelings or showing Harry how much he affected her life since the moment he talked to her that day at practice. So, it wasn’t fair to get mad at him because she wasn’t trying as hard as all the other girls to prove that she deserved to have him all to herself.
“She was really pretty, so I get it,” Y/N tried to brush off her slight anger. “I was just wondering why you came here last night instead of staying with her. I have less to offer and I’m not really—”
“I left her because she wouldn’t leave me alone, baby. I was going to invite you to stay at mine but I didn’t know other people besides my roommates were going to be there. She happened to be one of those people and wouldn’t stop begging me to sleep with her. I told her constantly that it wasn’t going to happen but she apparently couldn’t accept that, so I decided to just come to yours,” Harry simply explained. Y/N paused, staring at him dumbfounded. He watched her expression blankly, and she suddenly started feeling like a complete idiot.
She groaned and covered her eyes. Harry just laughed it off because it did sound sketchy that a girl was in his room late last night.
“Shit, wow, I’m an idiot,” she mumbled.
“No, don’t say that. It’s totally cool, and I’m glad we were able to clear that up, ya know?”
“Harry, stop. You can be mad at me for assuming. I shouldn’t have but—“
Harry suddenly caressed Y/N cheek and said, "You know I like you, right?" Y/N furrowed her brows before she laughed.
"I mean, I sure hope you do because this would be a very awkward one sided friendship,” she shrugged, holding his wrist as he brushed his thumb along her cheek and lips. “And you slept in my room so that would be weird if you didn’t like me."
Something about her slight oblivion made Harry like Y/N even more, if that was even possible. It might've also turned him on a little bit, but that was just because he knew how much work he’d have to put into winning her heart.
"No, baby, I mean, I like like you,” Harry shook his head, making Y/N brows furrow, “The 'I want to date you and have you all to myself, but not just because you're amazing in every way, but because I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you' kind of like.”
Y/N was at awe at his sudden confession.
“Harry, are you serious?”
“I don't want to scare you away or put you under any pressure, but I really think I want to marry you, Y/N. I wouldn't say I see us in twenty years having ten kids, being stuck with miserable cubicle jobs, and coming home to sleeping on opposite sides of the beds because I’m just too crazy about you to let us end up that way. But I do want you to be my wife one day, and I don't even mind if you keep your last name. If you want to make a name out of yourself and keep it, then I’m all for it, but I just want to know that you’re mine and I’m yours."
Harry let out a long breath when he finished, scattering his eyes around her face to figure out what she was thinking as she stared back blankly. Y/N wasn’t one to advertise her feelings with her face so Harry waited for words to be spoken. He just continued to rub her cheek and smile at her. Yeah, he definitely wanted this girl to be his wife one day.
Y/N took a minute to process what he was trying to say, and when she did, the first thing she said was, "You're a psycho." Harry would’ve taken that reaction the wrong way if he didn’t see the small smile spread over her lips. She switched from holding herself up by her one hand to leaning down on her elbows so she was brough closer to Harry’s face.
"I’d call it hopeful," He shrugged.
"How are you so sure about me? I’m not even sure about myself, and I don’t know how to be a good partner. I’m so… weird," Her voice dropped to a whisper as she glanced away. “You’ve had a lot of girlfriends so that’s a lot of people to compare myself to, and I don’t think I’m the right person for this.”
“Well, that’s for me to decide and I’ve already made up my mind, so this will only work if you’re all in, like me.”
Y/N sighed, biting her lip nervously. If she had known her afternoon would end up here, she would’ve mentally prepared herself weeks ago. And it showed all over her face that she was insecure about her dating abilities.
“You don’t have to answer me now, Y/N. Just think about it,” Harry grabbed her attention by turning her face towards him. “I’m very patient when it comes to you, baby.”
“I think you should think about this too, Harry. I literally assumed you had sex with some girl then came to sleep at my dorm. Are you really sure about me?” Y/N huffed. 
"Y/N, you aren’t understanding me. I really like you. And I quite desperately want you to be my girlfriend, but only if you want that to happen,” He chuckled. “I don’t want you to have to assume I’m with some girl anymore because I just want to only have you. I don’t need anyone else.”
"Again, why?"
"I want to change your mind about the kind of person I am. I want to be different, and not just for you but for myself. I want to be completely done with random hookups and letting girls have me anytime. I want to belong to someone, and that person is you.”
Y/N reached for Harry’s face and traced his eyebrows with her finger. "Harry, I wasn’t trying to offend you earlier with bringing up that girl. You can do whatever you want with whoever you want."
"I know that, but I only care about being the person you want and more. Only yours."
Y/N went quiet, watching her finger trail the sharp line of Harry’s jawline to his ears. He waited for her to speak again, holding back with more confessions because he didn’t want to overwhelm her any more.
"What if I say no?" Y/N suddenly asked.
"Well I'll leave to cry for a bit, but then come back and ask why. If you really don’t want to try us out then so be it, you know? Simple."
"You'll accept no?" She poked his nose with a lifted brow.
"Why wouldn't I?" Harry frowned.
"Men."
Harry laughed with a nod. "Yeah, I hate them more than you do."
"I don't think that's possible."
"That's probably true. If looks could kill, all the guys here would drop dead instantly,” He shrugged. 
Y/N stared at his features, enjoying how close they were. Her eyes slowly trailed down to his lips as they widened into a smile.
"Did that girl kiss you yesterday?" She asked in a whisper.
"No,” He immediately answered back.
"Have you kissed any girl lately?"
"I’ve been obsessing over you lately, was I not obvious?"
Y/N laughed and brought herself closer to him.
“Then can I kiss you?” She asked boldly. Harry’s eyes widened, not expecting for her to ask for that kind of intimacy before him.
He instantly nodded and, as he held her jaw, brought their lips together.
Her lips felt just like he expected, and even better. They were plushy and soft, molding with his just right. She let him lead it into a more rougher make out as his tongue darted into her mouth.
Y/N let out a soft moan as she tried to keep up with the pace of Harry’s lips. His breath tasted like candy, something he was always snacking on, and his mouth was comfortably warm like a fireplace during winter.
Harry pulled away for a quick second, sitting up and motioning for Y/N to join him on her bed. If she wasn’t so comfortable with him, and didn’t just sleep in the same bed as him last night, she would’ve been pretty cautious about his offer. But she was too desperate for his lips again to care.
She threw her leg over his so her knees were on each side of him. He leaned against the headboard and grabbed her waist to pull her closer to his chest. He wasn’t wearing a shirt as he saw no reason to because he hadn’t left her room since that morning.
“Please,” she whimpered under his breath as she waited for Harry to connect their lips again.
“I got you, baby. Don’t worry,” he held her face with one of his hands and brought her back into another steamy session.
The room was filled with soft humming and moans and the ruffles of her sheets as Y/N couldn’t seem to stay put. She kept squirming on his lap, trying to get as close to him as possible.
Harry was in pure heaven, forgetting everything but her. That’s all he wanted on his mind; her.
The pair finally pulled away to catch their breath. Her head fell on his shoulder as she licked her lips in hopes to savor his taste.
"I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get over your lips,” Harry sighed, slowly bringing his hands under her shirt to massage her back. He was relieved that she didn’t protest because he was so desperate to feel her warmth.
"What can I say? I'm one of a kind,” Y/N giggled.
"Yeah, you're like a rare Pokémon card or something."
She lifted up her head to look at him. She raised a brow and smirked, “Do you even know what Pokémon's are?"
"Not really, but I know I could get killed if I happen to have a super rare trading card,” he shrugged.
"So by having me, you could get killed?"
"Yeah."
"Then maybe getting married is a bad idea,” Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck. She brought her face close enough to rub her nose against his.
Harry’s heart began to pound loudly, and he was sure she heard it. He wanted to cry because of the relief he had that he finally confessed to her how much he wanted her.
"I never said it wasn't worth it."
"But I don't want my husband dying."
Harry gasped teasingly. “I'm your husband already? You didn't even propose to me, baby."
Y/N joined his joke and frowned. "I don't have a ring."
“Are you serious? This is very unromantic of you. I don't think this thing we're doing is going to work if you can't even get me a proper ring," Harry scoffed.
Y/N pouted and Harry bit his lip to hide an incoming smile from her adorable face. He was about to jokingly apologize, but then Y/N’s eyes suddenly widened.
"Wait, I think I do,” she exclaimed, before quickly hopping off of Harry and her bed. She ran to her bucket full of snacks and blindly searched for what she was looking for. “I have just the thing, my lovely fiancé,” she wiggled her brows at Harry.
He turned to throw his legs off the side of her bed and planted his hands behind him.
“What is it?”
Y/N hummed when she grabbed what she needed and snuck it behind her back. She smiled widely and walked back to stand in front of Harry. He spread his legs so she could stand in between them.
Before she could reveal her surprise, Harry couldn’t help but kiss her forehead and rub her cheek with his thumb.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispered. Y/N was taken back by his words as his face suddenly softened.
“Thank you,” she nodded, glancing away from his intense eyes. He was okay with that because like Coach James said, he wasn’t going to force her to overcome a fear unless she wanted to. “Okay, stop distracting me. Close your eyes.”
“Shit sorry, go on,” he laughed, before straightening his face and shutting his lids close.
All Harry heard was a lot of ruffling of a wrapper and Y/N giggling under her breath.
“Okay, and open,” she exclaimed.
Harry did as she said and looked at her ecstatic face before moving down to what was in her hand. A blue raspberry Ring Pop. He wanted to kiss her all over again.
“Y/N—“
"I just bought a package of them and I was gonna give you one after your practice today because I already knew you were going to do an amazing job, but might as well put them to use now,” she explained, motioning for his hand.
Harry laughed and leaned down to passionately kiss her. She gladly accepted his lips and wrapped an arm around his neck to keep him close.
When he pulled back, he took the ring from her and held her hand with his other. “Let me,” he told her. She shrugged and let him slide the ring pop on her thumb because she had small hands and it didn’t fit on any other.
“Wait, here’s another,” she reached for her nightstand to grab the other ring pop from the package she bought. She ripped it open and gave it to Harry to slide on his own ring finger.
He grabbed Y/N’s pinky with his own and then interlocked them. They decided to use the ring pops as promise rings. He promised to be a better person for Y/N and his own self. She promised to try her best to be a good girlfriend and trust him because things were going to get rocky when it got around campus that Harry was now someone’s.
They finished their confessions with kisses and clinking their ring pops together.
"So, did these confirm that we're dating now?" Harry asked.
Y/N nodded, but then frowned. “What happens after I eat mine?"
"I hope you'd still be my girlfriend,” he answered, already licking her ring pop because he got cherry flavored but preferred blue raspberry. She giggled and reached for his ring to lick his flavor.
"I suppose."
-
crying, throwing up, falling down the stairs, and everything in between
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lovehotelreservation · 9 months
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Hunting for Sport
Summary: He was seen as The Outlaw to many. But to you--especially after what you’ve done to him--he was your hunter.
[Contains plot spoilers for Final Fantasy XVI]
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: F!Reader/Clive
i was up until 4 am yesterday to finish ff16  🚬🚬
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There was a bounty on your head.
A piece of parchment with your face illustrated across, a hefty lump sum of gil stamped right beneath.
Who could resist trying their luck for such a splendid prize?
But being wanted so much was why you were currently meandering through the bustling streets of Kanver. Grand boulevards lined with shops and stalls offering the finest wares and goods in all of Valisthea, enticing big crowds to peruse–which, in turn, allowed for you to blend in easily without being noticed, especially with the hood of your cloak drawn over your head.
Even in the case of drawing suspicion amidst the hubbub, a quick turn into a nearby alleyway or striking up conversation with an earnest merchant was enough to shake off any attention.
Of course, there was one point to be made: Why go through such lengths when you could seek comfort in the shadows?
And the answer to such a question was simple.
It was as you were approaching a busy intersection at the heart of one of Kanver’s beloved marketplaces when a shadow loomed above you from behind, a soft yet gruff “Pardon me” uttered before you felt someone shift beside you to move on ahead.
The calm expression on your features broke into mischievous glee as you immediately took a few steps back.
That towering herculean physique, clothes, cape and armor of fine crimson and sturdy obsidian, the fine brisk hairs of a beard along his chiseled jaw that barely masked the strikingly distinct scar on his cheek, a grand and gorgeous sword sheathed on the scabbard that hung on his back, and–most captivatingly of all–those darling deep blue eyes that stared out ahead, narrowed ever so slightly in focus.
The Outlaw.
By his infamous renown, he was the only man you would ever entertain the thought of being apprehended by.
You readied to disappear back into the crowds.
That would have to wait for another day, another city, however.
But as you stepped back once more, it was right when you turned that you realized that those captivating blue eyes were no longer facing forward.
They were facing directly to your direction, straight right into your eyes.
His gaze thinned and his eyebrows furrowed as he shifted into a far more hawkish stance while his mouth uttered one word.
A word that made your eyes glitter with thrill and your lips curl into a wide grin.
Your name.
Your instincts roared at you to flee and so you did.
The hunt was on.
Kanver’s streets were to be the playing grounds while The Outlaw was to be your predator.
And as appealing as it sounded with how utterly handsome he was, you were in no mood to be easy prey.
Prior to this encounter, you had your means of discretely slipping back into the shadows. Yet for every moment you heard the heavy thuds of his armored boots a bit too close for your liking, you went from trying to slip back into the crowds to barrelling yourself through as much as you could, for ven a moment’s hesitation could result in being seized by the clawed grip of The Outlaw.
Forward, onward. 
A sharp turn around a corner. 
Kicking at a barrel to obstruct a path. 
Weaving in and out from street to shop.
The threat of his hand finally grabbing at the back of neck felt closer with each attempted swipe.
It was as you rushed through the empty storage hall of an abandoned store front that you then decided to tear off your cloak, tossing it back behind you as one last effort to hold him up before you would try to find refuge elsewhere.
Not that you needed your cloak to begin with.
Even with your hood on, The Outlaw had gazed upon your hunting bill far too long much within his personal quarters to mistake you.
After all, you were the one to send the parchment to him in the first place.
Your fingers immediately tugged at the front tie and clasp of your cloak just before tossing it back behind you while you dug deep into the well of your energy to sprint as fast as you could.
And then, you heard a burst of flame behind. 
The cool seaside air behind you was replaced by the brush of scorching heat, soon replaced by the natural warmth of flesh as a big sturdy arm immediately wrapped around your waist before pulling you back against a broad and chiseled chest, an action that was more smooth rather than brutish.
You barely could get a gasp out, your eyes wide and jaw slack in surprise.
The hunt was over but The Outlaw was far from done.
Your name was uttered once more right as you were drawn into a turn, your eyes soon finding themselves gazing right up into his.
All while your lips were soon claimed by his own.
So hungry, so yearning.
Passion was in the heart of its ferocity.
One that you were happy to reciprocate in return.
Yet as the two of you pulled away for air, you finally got a few words out in a huff.
“Using magic? That’s not fair, Clive…!”
You were met with a small grin in response. 
“Did you expect an outlaw to play fairly?” He chuckled just before kissing you once again, all while his hands reached to grab at your backside. “Then again, I’d say we’re eye to eye on this after what you did…”
Your pout was replaced by a satisfied smile as you recalled the last night you spent together, just before you took off for a mission towards the Easternmost coast of Storm.
You and him at his study, his desk a mess of paperwork and letters. His wrists were bound behind him while he remained seated, his teeth gritted tight as he fought back to groan and snarl too loudly while you rode his cock, bouncing up and down his lap. You made sure to brush your breasts right against his chest, knowing fully well that all he craved was to have his hands on you, to please you as much as you pleased him.
Though, you were more of the mind to be far more wicked, for it was as he was ready to release that you suddenly got off of him, breaking your kiss with him to instead bring your lips to his ear while your hand wrapped around the base of his cock to bring him to orgasm, his seed staining your fingers instead of spilling inside of you as he so desperately wanted.
The devastation on his face was too precious for words.
Joining you, being close to you, being one with you–that was what he cherished most.
It was teasingly cruel, you knew.
Yet how could you resist wickedness around him?
Witnessing those deep tender blue eyes of his become stormy with burning desire was a sight you were simply addicted to beholding.
And thus, if he wanted to receive what he wanted from you, he would just have to hunt you down, as you sweetly murmured into his ear.
You were gone before the last knot of the ropes around his wrists unraveled.
Now you were here, caught and caged against him while he kissed your mouth, his hands caught between pulling at your clothes to outright tearing at the fabric, urgency in his pace and touch.
What a joy it was to be hunted by him.
Your body, his bounty.
Your heart, his prize.
You, his.
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daveinediting · 5 months
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Continuing yesterday's observations about creative process, I'm trying out some other creative processes in a different arena. Yesterday was a non-exhaustive go at songwriting. The day before was a similar go at playwriting. And today it's...
Video editing.
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Okay.
How we create what we create has enormous power over the shape of what we create. That is, different creative processes produce different creative outcomes. So if you want to create something you never created before, do what you do differently.
Use a different process.
For example, once upon a time technology only allowed editors to edit in sequence. You started from the start, worked your way through to the end.
Done.
Later, technology did a massive reset and now we could start anywhere and end anywhere. So, of course, when this happened I started at the start and worked my way through to the end.
Done.
If and when I wanted to skip over a section of a show, that was doable but I had to commit to a length for that section I was skipping. Typically, I'd skip the beginnings of shows as they tended to be best of sequences and I'd have a better idea of a show's best shots after I finished the show. I'd music and narration to determine the length of that section and start cutting for real afterward.
Later it hit me I really could start anywhere so I started with a section of show that caught my attention, that seemed like a fun sequence to build. Then I'd move to another part of the show that would be fun to build and so on and so on until I finally filled everything in.
Now, for any sequence in question, there were any number of ways to go about it. I could lay in narration and soundbites, then lay in the video, and then add the music.
Or.
I could lay in the music and narration and then add the video.
Or.
I could do a kind of combination where I started with music then added a line of narration, then added video and sync sound and, depending on how what I'd just done hit me, maybe I'd continue with the music. Maybe I'd continue with the video. Maybe I'd continue with the narration. I'd leap frog around like that until I had a finished sequence.
Later, I threw myself into watching every piece of footage, tagging what I loved most, what I thought was strongest. The effort allowed me to visualize the show. To think of it, imagine it, before conjuring it into the real world.
Later still, I wouldn't even be in the edit suit. I'd be entirely someplace else. Outside even. I'd just read the script over and over and over and over. I'd imagine the kind of show that went with that script. I'd imagine the video and music. I'd imagine the sections where there was no music at all... just the sound of being there.
And so on.
All that imagining gave me an interesting sense of right and wrong once I started putting a show together.
In the end, when it comes to editing, especially editing against the clock, I've done it every which way. From a completely blank screen with no plan to an effort that's thoroughly plotted out in advance. For every element of a show, I prioritized each one at different times. I allowed each one to take the lead, in that way directing how the others should be involved. I made music my priority. I made the sound of being there my priority. I made the narration my priority.
Each of these approaches (and others) created different shows. They created different sections of shows. They changed things up. I don't know better or worse... but I do know absolutely different. And yes. Some were fast and easier to accomplish than others which was a factor. When I didn't have time, I'd prioritize narration. When I did have time, I'd allow for personal discovery.
So.
During the course of my editing career I absolutely chased different outcomes.
By using different creative processes.
😊
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justaredheadf1fan · 2 years
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Barcelona GP, better known as one of the best weekends I remember, ever
Masterlist
Well, I can finally write about this!
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I would’ve written yesterday after finishing up at the circuit if I hadn’t been so freaking beat! Jesus, it was exhausting as well as exciting as hell. We nearly didn’t make it, that heat wave was horrific! Now, back to business 🤪
So, we missed Friday, of course. No biggie. Saturday came and started as the disaster we truly are. We miscalculated big time and we arrived later than we expected. Missed exits on the road because of the shitty GPS plus me being the worst and poor signaling on the organization’s part, which I expected to not happen after so many years of organizing this event but whatever. We arrived and went looking for our gate only to find not only that it was all the way up the hill, but also that there was a line of people so long we passed the following gate until we finally arrived at the end of it. Yes, I’m telling it like I’d tell the rest of my friends at any point, don’t mind me. 28ºC already at 11 or so, we were DYING. Sun blazing like there was no tomorrow, and it was almost true. Add to it that we both look like a piece of paper and burn too easily, the party had already began for us.
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The line was done fairly quick, at least comparing to what we expected to be the longest wait ever. We did miss most of FP3 though, we caught the last 15 minutes or so at most. A shame really, but the sudden wave of happiness when we finally got to the track and started seeing the cars flying around was the best. I can’t really describe the feeling, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy about anything, truth be told. My smile was huge, I almost started crying, actually 😂
Once FP3 was done, we looked for our seats, started slowly dying in the sun and we went for something refreshing while W Series came on (sorry we missed it, ladies), otherwise it would’ve been a very, very long afternoon melting onto our seats. I wasn’t planning on it but while waiting in line for some Coca Cola (we needed some sugar to endure that hell) I was getting drowsy from the sun burning through my skull, which I knew was a very bad sign that early on, so I succumbed and bought a Merc cap, otherwise it probably would’ve ended badly at that point. Not that the *Mercedes* part of the cap was the saving factor. But, when choosing among all the options, it had to be Mercedes. Duh. It could’ve also been an old Renault cap with Daniel’s number on it, I really thought about it, buuuuut my heart beat me to it, even though the Mercedes cap was expensive as hell for my taste. It is what it is. I’m happy with it anyway. Quite the savior and the mood booster, if I think about it. I got quite a few interesting looks while wearing it, specially from RedBull/Inbred Frog fans. Very nice, indeed.
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Quali was surreal. It was so exciting, so many people there, and the results were pretty amazing for our boys too. We had some Leclerc/Ferrari fans behind us, which for me was purely fantastic. And a couple Merc fans on Marina’s side. So, very nice. The ambiance was incredible, in general, people were super nice. When we were leaving some British girls started talking to us and it was quite fun. Ultimately, we took a good 2 hours waiting in the car before we even started moving out of the parking lot because it was impossible, as much as arriving was. But we made it back and that was an amazing Day 1 at Montmeló.
Then Sunday (yesterday) came, and it was still so unbelievable. Many more people comparing to Saturday, and seeing what happened on Saturday, we decided to get there pretty damn early, and it worked. We got a little lost again with the fantastic signals around the parking lots, but much less than the day before, so that was something and we parked pretty close to the entrance and pretty quickly too so yeah, we learnt our lesson 😁
We walked around a little, saw the Main Stands and the Fan Zone behind it. We saw the start of Formula 3, which was amazing. The sound of those cars up close was insane, so I can’t even imagine how F1 cars will sound like right there directly in front of them. It must be pretty special. We even saw the start of Formula 2 from our stand this time, but went for something to eat prior to the F1 race taking advantage that there weren’t so many people yet, so we missed the rest of that race. The ambiance was much more amazing even than Saturday’s, as it was so packed. Over 121,000 people came as it turns out. I still don’t have good enough words to describe it.
Then, it was time for Formula 1. Whoa. I mean. Whoa. Driver’s Parade came right after F2 finished, and there was an hour and a half break more or less so we escaped to find a little shade, otherwise I don’t think we would’ve lasted the whole race in the sun. 36ºC already at that point, so I guessed that’s why they only made a single lap around the track? No idea, but it was super short.
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Finally, the race came and that was impressive. To watch it live, to hear the sound of the car engines, the speed. A dream come true would be an understatement. Kevin’s crash onto Lewis, Carlos and then Verstappen going off the track (we were the only ones cheering in our stand while watching that), Lewis gaining position after position after dropping to P19 at the very beginning, Charles losing power right after he passed through the turn we were watching from, George keeping Verstappen at bail… I can’t describe all of this. It’s been over 24h now and I just can’t say a word that would match what we’ve lived this past weekend. Even the Aston Martin Safety Car was sexy this past weekend, for fuck’s sake.
Some pictures I’m particularly happy about:
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I obviously have more, but apparently I’ve reached the limit. Anyway, I need to go back 😭
Finally, I wanna say thank you. Thank you to my friend Marina, because for 7 and a half years I missed out on so many incredible races and content about my most favorite (kind of) idiots due to an absurd reasoning on my part and then she came along and opened my eyes back to one of the things I used to love the most when I was just a kid who liked sports more than most girls did back then. I would’ve never gone to Barcelona in the first place if not for her. I’m so grateful you can’t imagine what this has given me on such a deep level. It’s been so long since I last cried because I didn’t wanna let go of such an incredible thing that I just lived. A thing so magnificent regardless of what some people are turning it into, that I wanted time to stop altogether and stay in that moment. It’s been such a pleasure, that next year we’re going back whatever it takes.
To whoever’s reading, I don’t care how many people you are, where you are and that you don’t even know me, thank you. I’m never letting go of this ever again.
Next up is Monaco, I’m moving on Friday and I’m not supposed to start working until Monday, so I really hope I can watch more or less everything during the weekend without issue. At least until I can figure out how will work interfere with the following races and I can organize myself to watch everything in a timely fashion anyway.
Peace out!
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tirayuanshen · 1 year
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Hello! This is just me asking for your spoiler-filled thoughts after finishing Sumeru's Archon quest because I saw you finished and I have so many feelings myself and would love to read yours.
HI SORRY FOR THE DELAY LETS GO (SPOILER WARNING)
Sumeru's quest was SUCH a step up from the past archon quests. In act 2, I loved how you actually felt the emotions of the traveler as they were stuck in the samsara (I remember very clearly how, when Paimon told Dunyarzad "sorry we overslept", I was like "that's not gonna leave a great impression since you guys had the same reason yesterday 😭" until everything started happening exactly the same and I was like. hold tf up. And then the whole mystery of what's going on was very immersive too, with all the reasoning steps taken to figure out the truth - like my mental gears were actually turning along with the traveler trying to figure it out, though of course the truth was way beyond what I could imagine. Nilou's dance scene was gorgeous, and Dunyarzad was one really great NPC that I genuinely liked.
3.1 had some really cool parts that I love to go back to - the cutscene talking about Deshret and Rukkhadevata (it's quite sad to see that Kasala tells the desert-dwellers to not forget of what Rukkha did for the desert, yet in the end, they did :'( ) and SCARAMOUCHE'S BACKSTORY ANIMATION!! oh my god that was the key that turned me from being "eh he's alright. a bit extra perhaps. interesting bits of backstory so far" into "I would bark for you, king". His CN VA did a really great analysis of that video that stated his interpretation - the "second betrayal" is a mockery of the friends and family that he doesn't have, and "third betrayal" is actually his bitterness that he couldn't do anything for the kid, and all of that just solidified into an anger since nothing ever turns out happily for him. For someone who's not quite human, his characterization is so human in a painful way that displays all of humanity's ups and extreme downs. Scaramouche is just such a fascinating character.
3.2 ARCHON QUEST!! Such a good finale omfg. The best parts, for me, were any moments with either Nahida or Scaramouche (or both). The way i was like simping when the illusion of Scara spoke to the traveler? His lofty, "godly" tone was like... aw you're so into the role that it's almost cute haha.
When we went to break Nahida out of her locked consciousness and you hear her talking to herself about all her efforts being met with disdain and abandonment, and her voice was so heartbroken and choked that my heart shattered into a million pieces... and also the traveler spoke!! Definitely worth remembering.
Scara boss fight(s). God. For one, his battle themes SLAP. Two, voice acting was so key here, and I think the CN VA was phenomenal - while in the mecha, he still has that lofty, deliberate voice of a "god" - but when he's defeated, you can hear the panic and desperation hitting him like a sledgehammer. The change in tone is just that audible. Honestly that scene where he lost the gnosis made me feel so bad for him 😭😭 he's usually so arrogant and temperamental but this thing, the reason why he even exists, has such a hold over him. His expressions were also heartbreaking 😭
But the angst doesn't end, because there was the Nahida and Rukkhadevata scene and the tears were POURING down my face because, again, the voice acting was great (you could hear Nahida's voice getting higher and airy from tears) and also the expressions, I think it's the first time we've had such realistic intense crying in the game. Rukkha is someone we've only known for a single scene, yet it was enough for me to feel really sad that the entire world would forget her and her benevolence. Zhongli's line "Those who come to witness will witness, those who are born to remember will remember" hits real different here.
in summary, i love the gods of sumeru that we met in this quest (i count scara in this category)
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dzpenumbra · 1 year
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1/29/23
Not really "with it" today. Just tired. Yoga was fast paced and intense, but good and I was able to keep up with it. I still don't know what I'm going to do when this 30-day challenge thing ends, I only have 2 more days. I ordered pants on Etsy so I can actually go to an in-person yoga class and humble myself there... but I ordered them 2 weeks ago. The person finally messaged me back this morning saying they were having trouble getting them in stock and immediately cancelled my order for me. God knows I'm never ordering from them again, 2 fucking weeks and it took me actually messaging them and requesting a delivery date. I guess they were content to just pocket the cash and hope I forgot I ordered them, huh. Maybe I'm a bit suspicious, but either way that's just shit business, sorry. That upset me. So I don't know what to do for pants, and every time I sit down and try to shop, it just stresses me out and overwhelms me, so I just... put if off. Again.
I did, however, get my coat rack set up. That's a big win in my book. I got the piece of mahogany I had and just said "fuck it" and left the raw wood. I might sand it at some point, and add that wax finish to it, but raw is fine for now. I just wanted to get it done. I measured even intervals and hand drilled the screws into the wood with a screwdriver. My shitty battery powered knock-off Dremel barely did shit drilling into the wood, so I just powered through it by hand. I need a manual drill, I don't mind the physical labor and exercise, but like... I need the right tools for this shit. I got the job done, but it would've been much better results, much less time, and less stripped screws if I just had a drill. Oh well, I'll put it on the list. But that coat rack is mounted on the wall.
Max, once again, did not eat her breakfast or dinner. I was able to get her to eat the anti-nausea med this morning, but not much more than that. And dinner, couldn't even get her to eat the chunk with the med in it. I'm stumped, honest. And it's tricky because this is all wet food which she will refuse to eat after it dries out, so... a lot of food has gone in the trash. But, more importantly, she's not eating food. I don't know what to do. I'm going to call the vet tomorrow and see if they think it's okay for her to start eating regular foods now, treats and shit. Like... she can't just eat half a can of food in the span of 3+ days. That's not good. It's worrying, of course. And my frustration with it is leaking out, and it's pretty hard to communicate clearly that I'm really frustrated because I can't like... communicate to her that I can't give her better food. That she has to eat this, or nothing. Otherwise she'll get sick. So yeah, if my phone rings at 9 AM and I'm just barely awake, but it's the vet on the line? I'm picking that shit up. I need to get this figured out. Because if I can just give her a really tasty fish meal or something? Just to get food in her? Just sayin...
So yeah, I went grocery shopping, which was fine. Just got up and went and did it, which is good for me. Leaving the house is much easier now. I guess it was an acute trauma thing, go figure. I made myself some homemade chicken fried rice and it was really good. I'm definitely putting a pin in that recipe, the tiny difference was greasing the pan with butter instead of oil. It made a big impact.
I ate some ice cream, played Dwarf Fortress for the first time. I considered streaming, but honestly, I'm kinda just exhausted. I think the vet yesterday really wiped my emotional energy, I'm just drained. It's 11:30 and I'm thinking I'm just gonna go get ready for bed. Might as well. But the game was cool, very in depth, very complex. It's going to take me a while to understand everything that's going on there, but I think I'm going to like it. I don't really like how things just jump from tile to tile, aesthetically, but I'm guessing it's a hardcoded thing and just kinda part of how the game functions, and after a while I'll get used to it.
So yeah, that was pretty much the day. The only other thing was that the rock tumbler was supposed to be done today, but... they still need time. They're still foggy and opaque, not shiny and glossy how they should be. It's always a bit unsettling putting them in longer and longer, because the longer they're in the more mass they lose... but this is the polish stage, I don't think they're losing that much if they're in a few more days. This should be like... the end of it. I'll check in on them tomorrow and see where we're at.
Guess I'm gonna call it early.
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Living with Losing You - 9/29/2022
Kentucky Bound!
It’s always bittersweet. I am excited to see your family and friends, but wish you were here with me to share these experiences. I cannot believe your birthday is already in a couple of days. We are definitely going to celebrate you that day. I celebrate the tings I am grateful for from our relationship everyday.
This morning I shot up right at 4:44am. It was like I got a sudden burst of energy. That really hasn’t happened since 3:33am when I was in KY the week after you died. Interesting stuff! Not sure what to think of it. 
I didn’t mention this the day before, but I was cleaning and doing a lot of prep prior to this trip. I am going to be here for 2.5 weeks, so I needed pt make sure I packed a lot of clothes. I decided to wash everything together yesterday (whites and darks) and of course the only white piece of clothing that got stained was the lace dress. After tending to it in-between meetings, I think I got most of it out, still slightly noticeable. 
Anyway, so luckily I did my laundry yesterday and organized most of my clothes the night before. This morning was mostly the “finishing touches” to what I packed. I made sure to write a list and heck off what I still needed to pack and do this morning. I had to take out the trash, refill the cat food / water, change the litter box, pack a few last minute items. wash all the dishes in the sink / put away the other dishes, run to Walmart to make a spare key to drop off at my parents, drop Sadie off, leave out a key for Cass for storage, etc. See, that’s a lot, huh?
I was able to get it all done (I will spare all of the boring details), and scheduled the Lyft to pick me up at 10:10am. I placed an order for PS and quickly walked up to grab it and ate it on the way back down the hill. I noticed something in my Lyft on the way to the airport (I will include a picture, kind of gross, but cute). Boarding was at 11:30am, and I had to check a bag when I got there too, before security. I was definitely pushing it, it was cutting it very close. I ended up making it all on time. I have to note that James used to always use a non-roller suitcase, and I came to find out that he had one the whole time. I decided to use that roller one today, and it was a but of a hassle. I know see why you didn’t use it James (LOL). 
Once I got through security (this line took a while, and for the first time I didn’t get patted down / my bag pulled, yay me!) I made my way to the usual store to grab a water bottle, then headed to the gate. I didn’t sit at the gate itself for too long before we boarded the plane. We unfortunately ended up sitting in the plane on the ground for a little over an hour before we took off. I heard it was because of the hurricane, the flights are all having to be shifted, etc. Not a huge deal because luckily my connecting flight that was in Detroit was a little under 2 hours for the lay over, so I had some spare time. 
When we finally took off, I realized that my screen wasn’t working. I listened to some music until that started providing the snacks and beverages, then I let the flight attendant know. Well, it never got resolved. I spent the entire flight listening to music (Spotify and checking out old recordings on my phone), reading old lyrics, texting some people who had imessage since there was free messaging, writing, and drawing. I had your switch, but I just wasn't in the mood to play those kinds of games. I did play Math24 and solitaire though. I love those games. The flight wasn’t too bad to get to Detroit, I still had about an hour before my connecting flight to Lexington, so I found a little market and bought a cheese and salami platter. When I was trying to get to my gate, I was going to the escalator and almost knocked over my luggage. Well, when I tried to grab it, I almost feel down the escalator. Luckily there weren't too many people around, because that was pretty embarrassing. The Detroit airport was nice though. I was looking into our old flights to see if we had ever connected there, but I do not think we ever had. I did see that you connected there when you went to Caron last September. 
Once I got my food, I headed to the gate and pulled out the Hawaiian (GF of course) rolls that I packed and made little sandwiches. I am learning the ways fo traveling with this intolerance. You would be so proud. 
Luckily this flight was on time, so I didn’t wait too long after I grabbed my food, only for another 20-30 minutes. This was perfect because it allowed me to make a post about the walk on Saturday. I posted the video of you trying to throw that boomerang that we bought at the Zoo. That was so much fun. Ugh, I miss you and wish we could have made more memories together. I am grateful for the ones I have though. 
This flight to Lexington was quick and easy. I will say, this plane was definitely the smallest I had ever been in. When we landed I was able to quickly get to baggage claim, and was praying that they didn’t mess up my baggage and accidentally send it somewhere else. Luckily, it was there. I think one of my favorite things about KY is that when the baggage claim is about to start moving, it does the horn sounds that they do at the derby races. I actually chucked and said “man, that gets me every time” and this lady looked over at me funny. I mean, I love it. I love that that do that so much. 
I was SO excited to see your mom. I gave her a huge hug and we drove the whole .5 miles to her house. We talked for a little but, then she went to bed and I got all my stuff unpacked and settled in. The shower felt incredible. Biggie was excited to see me (I have same proof). It’s hard to be here, but I also love it because I feel close to you by being with your family. 
I am excited for tomorrow, and really am praying I can find that note. I already bought my ticket for 10:30am. I should get some sleep, I am just already very thrown off. It is 12:45am here now and I am pretty awake still. I feel like traveling takes it out of you, but you also get a second wind. First world problems. 
I need to try and get some sleep though. I will have plenty of updates tomorrow. I am really hoping that shirt comes in on time. It’s been in Louisville for an entire day, no reason it shouldn't be in Lexington tomorrow. Fingers crossed. May need to take my advice from the last blog, “One is none, two is one”.
I love you. I love your family. I miss you. 
I am staying in the room where we used to stay. There is both sadness and comfort. It’s hard to explain. 
Rest in Peace, James Burton Nichols. 
10/1/1993 - 7/16/2022   
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luveline · 2 years
Text
you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]
summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model
word count: 2.4k
tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers
It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.
You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.
You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.
You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.
He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.
You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.
"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.
You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.
The whole school knew, naturally.
"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.
"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.
"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.
"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.
You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.
Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.
"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."
You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.
"Uh..."
"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.
"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.
"It's charcoal."
"What?"
"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."
He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.
It didn't matter.
"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."
You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."
"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"
"... You want the drawing?"
"I'd love it, if that's okay."
"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."
He handled it with care.
The librarian jingled her little bell again.
"Thank you. So, see you?"
"Yep," you agreed.
He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.
-
You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.
You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.
When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.
He looked much too brunette.
You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.
Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.
Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...
You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.
The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.
In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.
"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.
You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.
"Hi, dolly."
"Weasley."
"Oh, not even a first name?"
"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.
"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.
"Hi, Weasley."
He smirked.
"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"
"Nah. You never stand still."
"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.
He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.
His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.
You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.
You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.
After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.
Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.
"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."
"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."
Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."
You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."
"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."
You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."
"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."
You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.
"Thank you."
He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."
"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."
"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.
You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.
"What's in the box?"
"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.
It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.
"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.
"It's a memory box."
"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."
You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.
"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."
"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"
"Not on your life."
"They're perfectly edible!"
"Sure, Fred."
-
The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.
"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"
"They thought you were sleeping!"
A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.
It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?
Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.
"Is it a prank?"
"You're thinking too small."
"A new product?"
"Still need to go bigger!"
"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.
"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."
"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.
"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."
"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"
Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."
"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.
"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."
"This is goodbye?"
"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"
"What do you want to ask me?"
Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.
"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.
"You will?"
"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.
Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.
He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.
"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.
"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.
Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"
You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.
He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."
Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."
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imthebadguyyy · 3 years
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Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛
Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?
..
* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *
A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊
We're Meant To Be
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Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)
Fandom - F1
Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.
Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing
Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.
Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.
It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"
And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.
You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.
And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.
Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.
Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.
An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.
"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"
"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.
"No do not come in here, please just get out!"
"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"
Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"
"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.
The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.
He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.
And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.
Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.
Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.
"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"
After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"
***
A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭
Anyways, have a great day 💙
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shirecorn · 3 years
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how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?
Long post warning.
Art block...
I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years
I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?
Maybe... I'll just start rambling.
There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.
Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.
Method 1: Rest
Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.
Method 2: Action
I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.
Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.
The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.
Art block causes and solutions:
- No Inspiration
Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.
Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.
Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.
Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.
Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.
Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.
Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.
Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.
- Everything Sucks
You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.
Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.
Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.
So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.
Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."
Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.
- No Motivation
The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.
You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.
Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.
Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.
Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.
Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.
- Haven't Drawn in So Long
A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.
Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.
Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.
Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.
Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.
Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!
Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.
TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.
Art is a process, not a product.
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ignitedbynatsu · 3 years
Text
He Makes You Feel Insecure ~ Rogue
A/N: let it be known that I finally managed to update at the deadline I set myself 🥳 I'm so sorry I was gone this past week but college was getting hella busy so I had to focus on that this past week but I'm backkk. Thanks to everyone who stuck around, I missed you all and can't wait to get to the requests ❤️
Genre: angst to fluff
Warnings: swearing, insecurities (he makes you feel too childish)
Other versions:
Gray ~ Laxus ~ Cobra/Erik ~ Bickslow ~ Gajeel ~ Natsu ~ Jellal ~ Freed ~ Sting
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
A loud crash could be heard followed by your and Sting's laughter filling the guild. You quickly fled the scene and hid behind Rogue while stifling your laughter.
You had played the oldest prank in the book on Minerva. A water bucket on a half-open door. You'll never understand how the brilliant mage fell for that one, but she did, resulting in you hiding from her wrath.
"(Y/N)! Sting!" Minerva screeched as the water dripped down her hair.
"We're sorry Minerva-san, we just couldn't pass the opportunity" you apologize on your and Sting's behalf, but it was nowhere near sincere As you both were still doing everything in your power to not burst out in laughter. It wasn't even that funny, but to you and Sting it was hilarious.
"I swear I'm dating a child" the annoyance that was latched on to the words made you immediately stop laughing. Surely he didn't mean for it to come out that harsh, right?
"I'm sorry, what was that" a soft smile still playing on your lips, but that was quickly wiped off when you met his cold gaze.
"I said that you're fucking childish, (Y/N). It was bad enough having Sting act this way, but with you encouraging him and even joining him? I feel like I'm in a fucking daycare. Grow up, will you" Sting laughter also died down as he saw his friend take his frustrations out on you. "Hey, man, that's not cool-"
"No, Sting, it's fine. I- uh- I'll see you all tomorrow" even Minerva shook her head in disappointment as she observed your slumped shoulders as you left the guild. She didn't miss the tears starting to form either.
The rest of the day everyone felt that they were walking on eggshells around Rogue, not daring to get on his bad side. They felt bad for you. Sure you could be a little annoying with all the pranks you pulled, but they all knew it was just good fun. You never meant any harm and just wanted to make the guild feel a little more like home.
That homeyness that you seemed to bring everywhere you went, was gone the next day. Your usual colourful outfits were replaced by dull grey and black clothes. They even were certain that they hadn't seen you crack a smile once that day.
"Hey, (Y/N)! I got this amazing idea for a prank and-" you interrupted Sting before he could elaborate his grand idea "thank you, Sting, but I'll have to decline."
You had never refused a prank before, nor had he ever heard you talk that formal "that's it"
You raised an eyebrow at him as he stormed off to God knows where.
You hated turning him down. After all, you had been itching all day to break this facade, but it was for the best. It'll pay off in the long run you kept telling yourself. After all, you couldn't imagine a world where you'd have to live without Rogue. So if that meant you'd have to change your personality a little bit, you wouldn't even hesitate to make that sacrifice.
Meanwhile, Sting had left to go find Rogue. He knew that his best friend was the only one who could put an end to this "is this what you wanted?"
"I have no clue what you are talking about" Rogue replied as he turned around to meet the fuming blonde.
"You seriously don't see how miserable you made (Y/N)?" He scoffed as Rogue looked around to spot you. It took him some time as he did not expect you to wear something so... Colourless. "You haven't even spoken to her today, have you?"
"I decided that I was way out of line yesterday and that I should give her some time" he explained. Did you really think you needed to change just to please him?
"How kind of you" Rogue was surprised by the sweet words coming out of Sting's mouth, but when he turned back to the said boy he was met by a harsh glare "now go fix it"
"What if I make it worse" the guilty was slowly eating him alive as he dared to steal another glance at you.
"You can't possibly make it worse than it already is" Sting dismissed his insecurities
"Fro thinks so too!" Rogue's head snapped towards the Exceed "Frosch?"
"It's three against one here" Lector also piped up as the three stared at him expectingly.
The raven-haired sighed, knowing he should do something to fix his mistakes, so he took a deep breath, gathered all his courage and headed towards his girlfriend. He never thought he'd feel this scared again to talk to you.
"(Y/N)... Can we talk?" He wanted to sound confident but when you looked at him and not even spared him a small smile, he felt like he wanted to sink back into the shadows.
"Of course, what is it you'd like to talk with me about?" Rogue cringed how smooth your tone was. No unnecessary intonation, no shouting, no expression. Everything was dull and blank.
"Why are you acting like this" your eyes went wide for a second. Were you still not living up to his expectations? Was it too little? Too much? You had no clue.
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you are talking about" you replied swiftly, covering up any traces of emotions you had just shown. "Did you not want me to stop acting like a child?"
"Yes, but-" "and is what I'm doing not exactly that what you asked me to do?" "Yeah... But-" Rogue was getting frustrated, but he knew he had no right to snap at you again.
"Then I don't see the relevance of this conversation. I'll be heading home now. I'll see you tomorrow" with that you placed a kiss on his cheeks and headed back out of the guild.
Rogue's attempts at covering up his frustration were in vain as you could read him like an open book. Afraid to get yelled at again you hastily decided to head back home. Ready to scream or punch something just to get your own frustrations out.
After the failed attempts of him making it up to you, you managed to put up your facade for a week, until one day you just didn't show up. You didn't notify Sting or Rogue in advance, which you normally do, you were just too tired to deal with anyone.
"Has (Y/N) told you she wasn't coming today?" Rogue's anxiety was through the roof. He nearly burned a whole town to the ground when he lost Frosch. Imagine what he'd do if he didn't know where you, his significant other was. "No"
"I'm going to her house" with that Rogue left in an attempt to find you. Luckily for him, you were indeed just at your house.
Your stomach dropped at the sound of someone knocking at your door. You were tired, no, exhausted even. You hated that you had to pretend that you were someone that you're not, but it was all for a good cause you kept telling yourself, and yet you couldn't muster the energy to keep up that facade.
"(Y/N)? Please tell me your home" your heart broke at the sound of his voice. The worry and desperateness were caused because of you. Once again you were not good enough.
You opened the door ever so slightly, just enough, so he could make out that it was in fact you. "Thank God you're here"
"I'm sorry for not giving a heads-up. I promise I'll be back tomorrow" you promised him as you were about to shut the door again, but he stopped you by placing his own hand against the door.
"(Y/N), please, we need to talk" you contemplated for a minute, weighing the pros and the cons "please"
You slowly opened the door further as a signal for him to come in.
The sight in front of him shattered his heart. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your figure was completely slouched and your arms were wrapped around your middle, hugging yourself, in an attempt to shield yourself away from.
"I'm sorry I probably look like a cry baby right now-" he stopped you before you could finish your excuse "hey, no, none of that"
"I want to tell you something and I need you to listen without you interrupting me, okay?" You nodded your head at his request and waited patiently as he continued. "First and foremost I'd like to apologize for my behaviour last week. I shouldn't have worked out my frustration on you and I shouldn't have attacked you like that."
You nodded your head at his apology "second, I want you to know that you should never change your personality. Especially not for me. I love you, (Y/N). And when I say that, I mean every piece of you. Your good and your bad traits. If fell in love with you for who you are, and not the person you've been portraying as the last week."
"Please go back to your old self. I'd rather have a childish person as my girlfriend than a fraud that's clearly exhausted by putting on a facade. I really am sorry for making you feel like you had to change for me" by now you were full-on crying. Maybe it was because of Rogue's kind words, maybe it was because of the exhaustion, maybe a bit of both. All you cared about now was being in his arms and feeling loved.
"It's okay" you whispered as placed your head on his chest as he planted a kiss on your head.
"It really isn't. That's why I'd like to make it up to you" you broke the hug to look up at him as a mischievous glint was sparkling in his eyes "how about we prank Sting?"
"I'd love to, but for now let's just watch a film and cuddle" you smiled at his idea as you had never pranked Sting before since you always prank others together.
"Anything for you, princess" that's how you spend the rest of your evening in each other's arms, with him reassuring you every once in a while that he loves you and that you should never change.
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itsallyscorner · 3 years
Text
♥︎ The Struggles of Getting A Valentine
Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!reader
Summary: The three times Peter tries to ask you to be his Valentine and the one time he successfully does.
Warnings: none. Just a lot of fluff. Peter being a simp, Bucky being the cutest bby ever, and Tony being a dad. This is long. Happy reading💞
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Attempt #1
Peter watched as you vigorously took down notes. From time to time your eyes would shift back up to the projected screen on the board. Your hair would graciously fall past your ear and to the front of your face, causing you to continuously tuck it behind your ear whenever it bothered you. He let out a dreamy sigh at the thought of running his fingers through your hair and tucking the loose strands behind your ear for you.
He wasn’t paying attention in class; he should have cared more about World War II, but you had his undivided attention without even trying. Besides, he could ask Steve for help if he ever needed it, he’s literally lived through part of World War II. Peter felt foolish as he stared at you, a lovestruck expression was on his face while he admired you from afar. You were just a few seats away from him. You were in the next row, two seats ahead of him. He was so hopelessly in love with you, his feelings for you were more than just a crush. He admired every little thing about you. From your kindness to how talented you were as an Avenger; you were the girl of his dreams.
Ms. Atwell’s voice faded in the background while his mind clouded with thoughts of you. Beside him was Ned, who was also taking notes while trying to get Peter to focus once again. When Ms. Atwell turned her back to the class, Ned roughly shoved Peter’s shoulder. The hearts in Peter’s eyes popped and the chorus of How Deep Is Your Love by The Bee Gees stopped playing in his head. He whipped around to look at Ned, annoyed that his friend took him out of his daydream.
“What?” Peter asks him through gritted teeth.
“Ms. Atwell already yelled at you twice yesterday for not paying attention in class, do you really want her to call you out again?” Ned whispered back harshly. Peter was one of the smartest dudes Ned has ever known, but sometimes he could be as dumb as a rock and as stubborn as a mule.
Peter shrugged him off, “She won’t notice.” He looked to the front to make sure Ms. Atwell’s back was still turned to the class, “I think I’m gonna ask (y/n) to be my valentine.”
Getting lured in with curiosity, Ned asks, “Don’t you guys see each other everyday? And do patrol together? How have you not asked her yet?”
“I don’t know—I couldn’t find the right time to.” Peter answered, turning his head back to the front when he sensed Ms. Atwell turn back to the class. She briefly mentions something about the Howlling Commandos and turns back around.
“When are you asking her?” He hears Ned whisper behind him. He leans back, face still towards the board, “Right now.”
Ned nods then takes a double take at the back of Peter’s head, “Now?!”
Peter rips the corner of the page his notebook was open to and began to sloppily scribble the words:
(Y/n), will you be my valentine?
Yes ⃞ No ⃞
— Peter :)
As childish as his note was, he believed that you would find the gesture cute. Little did he know that Ms. Atwell would too. While he excitedly folded the piece of paper, he had not realized that Ms. Atwell had stopped talking and was looking at him with that stern stare of hers. Cluelessly, Peter quietly giggles to himself and tapped MJ, who was in front of him. When she didn’t turn around, he looks up from the note to see Ms.Atwell hovering above his desk, arms crossed with an unamused look on her face.
Startled, Peter jumps in his seat, eyes wide and cheeks growing warm. He looks around the class to see everyone staring at him, including you. Although, you had that same unamused look on your face as Ms. Atwell. Like Ned, you also scolded Peter whenever he didn’t pay attention in class.
“Dumbass.” You mouthed at him shaking your head. A sheepish grin forms on his face as his eyes shift back to Ms. Atwell. Her red painted lips were in a thin line and her hand was held out at him.
“Give me the note, Mr. Parker”
Peter’s eyes widened even more, making him fear that they might pop out of their sockets, “NO—no, no, no. I—I can’t.”
“And why not?” She asks him in her posh accent.
“Uh—because..” Peter struggled to come up with an excuse. His eyes shifted between you and Ned, desperately asking for help. Ned shrugs in response.
“Just give it.” You mouth to him. He shakes his head at you furiously and was about to respond to Ms. Atwell, but the note was removed from his hands. Peter squeaks as he tries to take it back from his teacher but shoves himself back into his seat when Ms. Atwell glares at him. She opens the note, eyes skimming at the words written on the piece of paper. A small smirk grows on the older woman’s lips.
“P—please don’t read it out loud.” Peter pleadingly whispered to her. He leaned forward, “I’ll go to detention, I’ll even grade your papers for you—just please don’t read it out loud.”
You raise a brow at the brown haired boy, wondering what could have been written on that piece of paper that made him beg Ms. Atwell for detention to not read it. You shift your questioning gaze at Ned, who waves off your nonverbal question.
Ms. Atwell sighs, crumpling up the piece of paper, “Detention after school.”
“Yes.” He whispered to himself in victory, hands clasping together. “Thank you, thank you, Ms. Atwell.”
“I’m only letting this slide once. The next time I see you writing notes in my class, I’m reading it to everyone and calling home.” She warned pointing a finger at him. Peter nods eagerly, “Got it, Ms. Atwell.”
She returns back to her lesson while Peter shoved his face into his hands in embarrassment. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and his heart was pounding out of nervousness. He musters up the courage to look at you again.
Much to his surprise, you were already looking at him over your shoulder. He flashes you a shy smile to which you reciprocate with one of your own. You turn back around, resuming to take notes from the board. The smile on his face only grew wider as he stared down at his scribbled notebook, the image of you smiling at him stuck in his head.
Attempt #2
The next time Peter tried to ask you to be his valentine happened a few days after his first failed attempt. He was spending the weekend at the tower after Tony and Steve suggested that he should begin training with them more. Of course, he took their advice; this was an opportunity for him to improve on his skills and learn new things. But most importantly, he would get to see you everyday.
Peter was sat on the floor of the Avengers’ shared living room setting up Netflix on the giant flat screen attached to the gray wall. He had finished training an hour ago and was now going to have a movie night with you. You had also finished training the same time he did and suggested that the two of you should watch some new movie that came out on Netflix. He thought it was an amazing idea to have a movie night, obviously it was an amazing idea, you came up with it. He agreed willingly and insisted on grabbing food for you both. He swung from building to building until he ended up back in Queens at the entrance of Delmar’s. The two of you would go to the bodega everyday after school and pick up your usuals. Then Peter would swing you to the rooftop of some building and the two of you would eat before doing some patrol work around the city.
He pulled out your usual sandwiches from the plastic bag and placed them on the coffee table. To pair with the sandwiches, he also bought chips and two bottles of soda. He set up the coffee table and made it look neat. He wasn’t usually a perfectionist, but he felt the need to impress you. Did table or food presentation matter to you? Would you think he was sloppy if he carelessly placed the food on the table? Or maybe you’d think he was a neat freak from how neat and trim the food was laid out?
While you gathered extra pillows and blankets from your room, Peter continued to fidget with the food on the table. He moved the bottles of soda around too many times and even tilted the chips to make it look aesthetically pleasing. When he was content with how everything was organized, he glanced at the plastic bag. Along with the food, he had also bought a box of chocolates. The red heart shaped box caught his eyes and he felt his fingers inching closer to it. It was almost Valentine’s Day and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. He felt a rush of adrenaline in his body when he took the box from the shelf and purchased it. Peter made the spontaneous decision that he was going to ask you to be his valentine during your movie night. He would place the box on top of your food and when you come out of your room, you would see the box and then he’ll finally get the chance to shoot his shot.
Peter gripped the red heart box and gingerly placed it on top of your chips. He eyed it nervously before shifting his attention back to the tv. He was searching for the movie you suggested on watching when Bucky walked into the living room. The two greeted each other quietly until Bucky caught sight of the box of chocolates.
“Are those chocolates? I haven’t seen them in these heart shaped boxes in forever.” Bucky reminisced, picking up the box and inspecting it. His eyes were filled with curiosity, “Woah, they make them look all flashy now. Back in the day, ours didn’t have bows or glitter on ‘em. It was just some picture.”
Peter found himself smiling at Bucky’s sudden interest in the box. “Did they come in different flavors back then, Mr. Barnes?”
Bucky whips his head up to look at Peter, “No! They only had milk chocolate. They come in different flavors now? No way.” Bucky exclaimed, turning the box around to see all the flavors listed on the back. After seeing Bucky’s reaction to the chocolates, he wanted to just give them to Mr. Barnes. But if he gave them to Mr. Barnes, then he would have nothing to give you when he asks you to be his valentine. He didn’t necessarily need to give you anything to ask the question, but it would have made the gesture more sweet and somewhat romantic. Though, that smile on Bucky’s face was a rare sight.
Peter’s shoulders slumped against the couch he was leaning on. He mustered up a smile and told Bucky, “You can have it if you want.”
“Oh no, it’s fine, this is yours. I could ask Steve or Sam to buy me one at the stores.” Bucky waved him off, trying to hand the box back to Peter. Peter shook his head, making the brown curls on his head wiggle, “No, take it Mr. Barnes. (Y/n) and I already have plenty of junk food here. You know, with training and all, wouldn’t want all that work to go to waste just to eat a bunch of junk food.”
“Are you sure, kid?” Bucky asked still holding out the box at Peter.
Peter sent him a soft grin and motioned for him to take it, “Yeah go ahead, you’ll enjoy it more than us.”
Bucky’s grin widens and he holds the box of chocolates up to his chest, “Thanks Peter! You’re not as bad as Sam says you are.” With that, he turns around and walks back down the hall.
“Thanks?” Peter said, a brow raised at Bucky’s retreating body. You come around the corner with an arms full of blankets and pillows. Peter chuckles and gets up to help you.
“(Y/n), you didn’t have to get so many pillows.” He teased, taking a blanket and two pillows from you. You huffed and placed the items on the floor.
“I just want to make sure we’re comfortable, Pete. Comfort is important during movie nights.” You defended yourself.
As you set up the blankets and pillows you glance at Peter, “Bucky told me you gave him chocolate. That was sweet of you.” A tint of red forms on his fair cheeks.
“It was nothing. Apparently they didn’t have different kinds of chocolate back in the day. When I told him, his whole face lit up, it was probably the happiest I’ve ever seen Mr. Barnes.” He explained, sitting beside you on the floor.
You smile fondly at the boy next to you, he truly was the biggest sweetheart. “It’s not nothing. That probably made his day, Pete. We barely see Bucky smile.”
Peter hummed in response, too busy being mesmerized by the light in your eyes. He averts his gaze before you can catch him staring at your face.
Peter’s eyes land at the food on the table. His bottom lip pursed into a pout when he spotted a dent on the bag of chips created by the box of chocolates. The small dent taunted him and was only a reminder of how he should have been already popping the question. He mentally cursed at himself, he couldn’t help but become a perfectionist when it came to you. He couldn’t just ask you the question—you deserved a bouquet of flowers, boxes of chocolate, teddy bears—heck he’d give you the world without you even asking for it.
“Hey! I got you your favorite.” He sees you instantly perk up. That beautiful smile of yours takes over your features and the butterflies in his stomach came to life. He found himself reciprocating your smile.
“Thank you, Peter! You’re the best!” You squeal, pressing a light kiss on his cheek and throwing your arms around him. He was taken aback by the sudden form of affection. Shock was written on his face while his body was frozen. Meanwhile, you were already digging into your sandwich while he was still in his flustered state, processing what just happened.
Attempt #3
This had to be the perfect time to ask you, Peter thought to himself. The two of you were sat on the ledge of some random roof Peter swung you both onto. You were sat beside him, feet swinging back and forth while you looked down on the bright city. Your hands gripped onto the edge of the roof, your fingers brushing against Peter’s once in a while, making the both of you blush.
Wind gently breezed past you, causing strands of your hair to brush over your shoulder. He should have been patrolling the city, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but his eyes were glued to the side of your face. The lights from the city reflected on your features; giving your skin a warm glow and your eyes a sparkle. He thought you looked absolutely stunning.
“It’s not nice to stare.” You suddenly tease him. He’s been caught. His mouth was agape and he quickly turned his head away from you sputtering. You smirked to yourself knowing that his cheeks were turning bright red.
“Oh—um, I wasn’t—yeah, no, I’m sorry.” He muttered. His hand awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he glanced at you. He was thankful that it was the night time, this would’ve been more embarrassing if you saw how red his cheeks were.
A playful smile was on your lips, “I’m playing, Peter. Is there something on my face?”
Besides beauty? No, there’s nothing on your face, was what he wanted to tell you.
“No! Your face is—fine.” He answered smiling nervously.
Wait, why would you say her face is just FINE? He thought to himself. He then continued to stutter out words, “I—I mean, your face is really pretty.”
You stared at him, amused at his flustered state. You always found his bashfulness adorable. He easily blushed at any compliment or kind of physical contact. You could nudge shoulders with him and his cheeks would instantly go red as a tomato. Even though he easily blushed, he was the sweetest person you knew. He cared about others around him, he had the kindest soul, and he knew how to treat a girl right. He was also a thief, because he stole your heart the moment you first laid eyes on him.
You giggle at him and bite your lip, “Thanks Pete. Your face is pretty too.”
“Thanks.” He breaths out. His inner voice then spoke, this is your chance idiot just ask her the damn question. Peter agreed with himself, this was the perfect moment. The moon shined in the night sky, the twinkling lights of the city set the mood, and the two of you were finally alone—this was perfect.
“Hey, (y/n)?” You turn your attention to him to see him fiddling with his fingers.
“Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something?”
You laugh, “You just did, twice, but yeah, shoot.” Your joke seemed to loosen him up because it got him to chuckle.
He eyes your hand before grabbing it. He fumbles with your fingers until you decide to help him out and interlock them together. You see him smile at your fingers.
His thumb rubs the back of your hand, “Well, I’ve been trying to ask you this for a long time now. People just keep getting in the way of all my plans. Uh—I was wondering, only if you want to, if you want to be my—“
A shrill scream interrupts Peter. He clenches his jaw, hanging his head down in defeat. You squeeze his hand, catching his attention. The adorable pout was on his lips again and you were tempted to kiss it away.
You flash him an apologetic smile, “We should check on that.”
“Yeah, we should.” Peter grunted, taking his mask and shoving it on. With the hand that was still holding yours, he helps you up from the ledge.
You wrap your arms around his neck while one of his hands rest on the small of your back. He checks to see if his web shooters are on properly and pulls you closer to his chest, “You ready?”
“Yeah, let’s get ‘em.”
Success
It was only a night away until Valentine’s Day and Peter still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine. His heart felt heavy when you didn’t walk through the doors of your shared first period class. You must’ve been running late, he remember thinking to himself. He waited to see you at fourth period, but to his dismay, you were still not there. During lunch, he kept to himself and picked at his food while he worried about you. Asking you to be his Valentine was long forgotten, now he was wondering why you didn’t show up to school. Were you sick? What if you were in danger? Was there an invasion at the tower? Maybe you were on a mission? But that didn’t make sense, since you’d usually tell him you had a mission before hand. His entire day was spent thinking of reasons why you weren’t at school.
The second the bell rung, he rushed out of the school, leaving behind a concerned Ned. He sprinted to the train, then stopped by Delmar’s to get your usual order and another box of chocolates. He shoved the items into his book bag and swung his way to the tower. He greeted the receptionist and squeezed his way into an elevator. When he landed on the Avengers’ floor, he saw Sam, Tony, and Rhodey at the kitchen.
“Hey kid! How was school? Educational?” Tony greeted him, ruffling his hair as he passed by.
“Uh, yeah.” He answered, not bothering to actually answer Tony’s question. “Where’s (y/n)?” He asked them looking around the floor. Sam and Rhodey share a look at the boy’s eagerness.
“A mission came up. She’s out with Nat, Wanda, and Steve.” Sam answered, taking a sip out his mug.
Peter’s shoulders sag, “Do you know when they’re coming back?”
Rhodey glances at the time, “Not till tonight.” Peter curses to himself. Tony raised a brow at the boy, “Why are you so desperate to see (y/n)?”
“I’m not desperate!” Peter weakly defended himself. “I just—I had to ask her a question before tomorrow.”
Tony smirks at Peter, “It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.” Peter sighs and tosses his bag onto the floor. He pulls out one of the stools at the counter and shoves himself to sit on it.
“Exactly.”
“So you finally grew the balls to ask (y/n) out? About time, I was getting tired of seeing the two of you make puppy eyes at each other from across the room.” Sam snickered. Rhodey nodded, agreeing with Sam.
“We don’t make puppy eyes at each other.” Peter grumbled crossing his arms. Tony leans on the counter across from Peter, “Did you get her anything?”
“I got her usual sandwich from Delmar’s and a box of chocolates. I was gonna ask her to hang out in the garden and we’d eat our sandwiches there, then I would’ve asked her to be my Valentine.” Peter explained to the three men.
“You got her a sandwich and a box of chocolates?” Rhodey asked him.
Peter shrugged, “It’s all I could afford! I don’t get any money from being Spider-Man.”
Tony felt bad for Peter. He saw how the two of you interacted; bright smiles and attached at the hip. You guys obviously liked each other, but were too chicken to admit it. This was the exact push you both needed to admit those feelings. Tony patted down his pockets until he felt his wallet.
“I don’t trust you with my card, so here’s a hundred.” Tony slides the bill across the counter to Peter. The boy’s brows knitted together, “For what?”
Tony motions to the elevator, “Go and get your girl some flowers or something, I don’t know. You’ve got time before she gets here.”
“What? Mr. Stark I can’t take your money.”
Tony rolled his eyes, “Kid, you’ve been making heart eyes at this girl since the moment you first saw her. Now take the damn money and make this a memorable Valentine’s Day for her.”
Peter takes the bill and shoves it into his pocket, he stumbles out the chair and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Stark, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” He surprises Tony with a hug before running out of the kitchen.
Peter ended up at the nearest Walgreens. He went all out with the gifts, that he needed two baskets to hold his items at the store. When he got back to the tower he headed straight to your room. He wasted no time in decorating your room. He hung up stringed lights with little heart lanterns attached to them on all four of your walls. He got a few stuffed animals and a giant squishmallow. He laid those things out on your bed paired with some of your favorite candies. He also got that lip balm you’re always raving about, fuzzy socks, and a scented candle. The last thing he got, that he knew you would enjoy, was a Harry Potter Lego set. It was only a small set, but he knew you’d like it nonetheless. You’ve always told him that you wanted to build a Lego set with him and now he was going to make that happen.
He stood in the middle of your room admiring his work. Everything was set perfectly and he was proud of his decorating skills. A knock was heard on the door, making him rush to grab the bouquet of roses on your desk.
“Um, COME IN!” He yelled, fixing his hair and standing straight with the flowers to his chest. The door opens to only reveal Mr. Stark.
“Hey—wow.” Tony observered your room, surprised at how it looked. He turned to Peter and gesture to the roses, “Listen Pete, I appreciate the gesture but I’m a married man.” He raises his ring finger for show, snickering at his own joke.
“Mr. Stark.” Peter whined setting the roses on your bed.
“What? I just came in here to tell you that they’re landing in a few minutes. I got your sandwiches out the fridge and sparkling apple cider for you guys.” Tony hands the items to Peter and two champagne glasses.
“Oh, thanks Mr. Stark.” Tony waves him off, “Don’t tell the others, but you’re both my favorites in this building.” The smile on Peter’s face widens.
“I’ll get outta your hair. Good job on the room by the way, good luck!” Tony leaves the room and shuts the door behind him. Peter sets the sandwiches on your desk and takes the roses again. If Mr. Stark liked how your room was decorated then so will you, hopefully. He sits on your chair and waits for you to come through the door. He waits for a few more minutes until he distinctly hears your voice from behind the door.
He gets up again and fixes his hair and clothes. His heart skips a beat when the handle of your door twisted. The door opens painfully slow till it finally revealed you behind it. You stumble in shock once you enter your room.
“Hi.” He breathes out, hands tightening around the stems of the roses.
“Hey.” You greet him shutting the door behind you. Peter scanned your body, not to ogle at you in your suit, but to check if you had any injuries. You walk towards him and stop when you’re just inches away from him.
“How was the mission? Are you hurt?” He questions you. You fondly shake your head at him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “It was good, we were just gathering intel, nothing too hectic.” You reassure him. Peter nods in response while your eyes dance around the room.
“What’s all this, Pete?” You ask him, a playful glint in your eyes. Peter swallows nervously and offers you the flowers. You quietly thank him, admiring the red and pink flowers.
“Well, remember that one night during patrol?”
“Yes, I do. You had a question for me.”
“Yeah—um I’m gonna ask you that question right now.” Peter explains, fiddling with his hands.
“Okay. But are the heart lights supposed to be a hint because I kinda have a feeling I already know what you want to ask me?” You take one of his hands and interlock it with yours. Peter eases up and chuckles bashfully, swinging your hands from side to side.
“I’ve been trying to ask you this for weeks now and every time people would get in the way of me asking you. I wanted it to be perfect and everything—because you’re perfect. And you deserve something romantic and extravagant for Valentine’s Day. I was gonna give you a sandwich and a box of chocolates; because it’s what I can get with my money. Then Mr. Rhodey called me out so Mr. Stark gave me money and—“ He was in the middle of explaining when you interjected.
“Peter, you’re rambling.” You giggle squeezing his hand.
“I know, I’m nervous, I’m sorry.” He apologized blushing. You shook your head and pulled him closer to you, “You don’t need to be nervous, just ask me the question, Pete.”
He looks down at you, gazing into your eyes, “(Y/n), will you be my Valentine?”
You beam up at him, “I would love to be your Valentine, Peter Parker.”
578 notes · View notes
andvys · 3 years
Text
Longing (part 17)
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Warnings: angst, self destructive behavior, kinda self harm, kinda dark!reader
Pairing: Ellie Williams x reader
Author’s note: this took me way too long and it’s kinda rushed and not the best one I've written but I promise the next one will be better.
Opening your eyes slowly, you patted the spot next to you to find it empty, Ellie must've gotten up already. You noticed how tired and exhausted you were despite hours of sleeping. These past few weeks have really taken a toll on you and your health. Your body was full of scars and bruises and not just physically. Pain shot through your shoulder when you tried to get up, groaning you clutched your shoulder and fell back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling your thoughts drifted off to last night.
This has by far been the worst day since Joel’s death and you didn't even know what the worst part about it was. Torturing and killing Nora or fighting Abby and getting your ass kicked by her. You planned on killing her and yet you failed.
You were angry at yourself, you almost died yesterday and not just once and you only survived because of that boy. He prevented you from getting killed on the streets and he prevented you from getting killed by Abby, twice. You were getting weak and that was the last thing you needed right now, you had to stay strong in order to kill Abby, otherwise it wouldn't be her getting killed but you or even worse Ellie and Jesse and you would never let that happen.
Getting up, you ignored the pain in your shoulder and started to put on the clothes that Ellie laid out for you, you didn't even know where she got them from but you were thankful for not having to wear your bloody and dirty clothes again. Tying the laces on your boots you got up to find your reflection staring back at you through the large mirror.
Walking closer you almost gasped at the sight of yourself. Abby has done a good job on you, you were covered in bruises and new cuts that would surely leave scars. Your lip was busted and your throat was covered in dark purple and blue bruises. As if the big guy hadn't done enough, Abby had to leave marks of her own around your throat. You were surprised that you could still talk.
How could you let it get this far? No one has ever managed to cover you in so many bruises and you fought people twice Abby’s size before. You didn't even know who you were more angry at, Abby or yourself?
She was the one who put you in this state but you were the one that you let her. You let her beat you, you let her be stronger than you. You were so blinded by anger and rage that you didn't turn your logic on when you were fighting her, you just attacked her without thinking first. 
You were so incredibly angry at yourself. Your father would've laughed at you. 
‘how are you gonna survive in this world when you can't even defend yourself?’
Shaking your head you tried to get his voice out of your head but it kept repeating itself. You felt tears well up in your eyes, your breathing got heavier by the second and you couldn't stand looking at yourself anymore.
Balling your hand up into a fist, you punched into the mirror, breaking it, you sliced your skin open in the process but you didn't even feel it, you were consumed by anger. You just kept punching it until your hand was covered in blood.
Ellie was sitting in one of the seats, playing guitar when she heard the sound of glass shattering coming from the room you were in. Immediately she put the guitar down and rushed over to you, right when she was about to open the door, it was already pulled open by you. 
Startled at the sight of her standing there you jumped back slightly, blinking a couple of times, you went to move past her but she didn't let you. She looked at you in shock, her eyes drifted down to your bloody hand. She didn't know what to say, she could tell this wasn't an accident by the way you avoided looking into her eyes. 
“(Y/n)..” she whispered, with a shocked expression on her face.
“I’m fine, Ellie.” you mumbled, looking down.
“No you're not, give me your hand.” she said, grabbing your hand to examine the cuts. You didn't want her to see you like this but you knew there was no way that she would just let you walk away like this and you couldn't resist her puppy eyes anyways. “Alright, luckily there is no glass stuck in your skin.”
Pushing you back into the room she told you to sit on the bed while she went to grab some supplies.
“Okay, found some stuff..” she said, walking back into the room, glancing at the broken mirror briefly before she sat down next to you. Grabbing your hand gently, she started cleaning the blood off your hand.
You didn't even wince when she started disinfecting the wound with alcohol, too deep in thought to feel the pain. Ellie noticed that and eyed you worriedly. 
“Alright all done.” she said, grabbing your hand so you wouldn't try to leave again “babe?” 
Looking down, you didn't want her to look at your face, you looked broken and you knew it, you were supposed to look strong and not like some weak kid. 
“Babe look at me, please.” she pleaded, squeezing your hand. 
Taking a deep breath, you looked up at her, noticing the sad and worried look she had on her face. “I’m here, you can talk to me you know that right?” 
“I know.” you whispered. 
“I don't want to lose you (y/n).” she said, moving closer to you, she brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, looking at you with sad eyes.
Feeling your heart squeeze in your chest at her words you pulled her into a hug. “You won't lose me Ellie. I promise.” you said, holding her tightly.
She held onto you tightly, not wanting to let you go. She was so worried when you were out there all alone. She hated to think about you being in danger and she hated it even more that you were hurt and almost killed out there. She wanted to tell you to just stay here while she finished it but she knew there was no stopping you from going after Abby and you would never sit back while Ellie was out there on her own.
Pulling away you noticed the worried look in your lovers eyes, your gaze immediately softened “Ellie, I promise you that you won't lose me, I’ll be with for as long as I’m alive.” you said, pecking her lips softly. “We lost too much time with each other already don't you think?” you asked her.
She nodded her head, a sad smile tugging on her lips.
“Well it was kinda my fault..” you admitted ‘as always’ you thought to yourself.
“Hey we’re together now, that's all that matters.” Ellie said, bringing your hand up to her lips, kissing it softly. 
Your heart jumped at her saying you were together. 
“Together..” you trailed off “does that mean I can call you my girlfriend now?” you asked shyly 
Ellie’s eyes widened at your question, her heartbeat got increasingly faster. Never in a million years would she have though that you'd be the one asking her to be your girlfriend. She always guessed that she would be the one asking you that question. 
“I- of course, fuck.. of you can call me your girlfriend.. I mean I- always wanted to call you my girlfriend but- alright I will stop rambling now..” Ellie mumbled the last part. 
Smiling slightly at her, you leaned and kissed her lips softly, she grabbed your face and pulled you closer, kissing you back.
You probably didn't deserve her but you couldn't resister her, she made you feel alive, she made you feel safe and at home. Her touch was able to make you forget every worry that you had, she was able to calm you down even in times like this, she was like an anchor for you. 
Pulling away from the kiss, you looked into her eyes and all you could find there was love and adoration for you. 
“Come on, we have to discuss a few things.” you said, getting up, you grabbed your backpack and your swords. 
“Yeah hold on.” she said, grabbing your hand she turned you around and pulled you in again, kissing you one more time before you both had to go out there again.
Grabbing her waist, you pulled her closer, kissing her back.
“Hey sleepyheads I- oh my god... not again!” Jesse came bursting into the room and immediately left and closed the door again. 
Pulling away from her you furrowed your brows “what a dumbass” you said shaking your head. Ellie chuckled at you “He’ll never learn how to knock.” Ellie mumbled. 
“Yeah.. alright let’s go.” 
After you explained everything Nora told you about why they were after Joel you discussed the route to the Aquarium and were finally on the way there. It was raining and you could her the faint rumbling of thunder from afar. Ellie and Jesse were behind you, talking about Dina and the baby. You weren't in the mood to talk so you just walked ahead of them, keeping an eye out for infected or worse, people. 
You came to the conclusion that people were worse than infected. At least they couldn't help attacking you, it was their nature but people, they have the choice and yet they still do horrible things. Not that you were any different but at least you weren't enjoying this.
Perking up at the sound of voices coming from somewhere up ahead, you looked back at Ellie and Jesse motioning for them to hide. You ran behind a car, next to Ellie, pulling out your gun, you didn't even hesitate when you started shooting at them, the second you saw them. Ellie looked at you in surprise, this wasn't like you, you usually counted the enemies before jumping straight in to the line of fire.
She jumped up and started shooting at them too, killing one of them just in time before he went to pull the trigger of the gun that was pointed at your head. Jesse was shooting at them from the side.
They were quickly dealt with, you went to one of the soldiers and grabbed his rifle and his handgun.
Ellie and Jesse glanced at each other in worry.
“What the hell was that (y/n)?” Ellie asked with an accusing tone.
Turning around to look at her, you notice both Ellie and Jesse staring at you.
“What do you mean?” You asked, looking back in forth between them.
“That!” Ellie exclaimed, pointing to the dead soldiers. “That was dumb.”
Rolling your eyes at her, you turned around and went to walk away only to have Ellie pulling you back by grabbing your shoulder, you almost winced at the pain, she must've forgotten your injury.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me (y/n).” She demanded, looking at you with an angry expression. “This guy almost shot you.”
“So? He didn't, thanks to you.” You stated and turned around again, not wanting to keep talking about this.
You had to admit, what you did was stupid but you just wanted to get this over with as quickly as you could.
Ellie looked back to Jesse, not knowing what to do. He just shrugged and followed you.
After you encountered more WLF’s, you and Ellie parted ways with Jesse after overhearing a conversation about a sniper. You all assumed it must've been Tommy so Jesse went after him while you and Ellie kept moving towards the aquarium. Everything was going great until you saw more WLF’s fighting with another group, you wanted to get past them but they've seen your boat already and started shooting at you from afar. 
“Fuck this is the group I told you about.” you grumbled, you knew it was them by the way they were dressed. They all had long coats on when you saw them yesterday and these guys were dressed the same, so it was clearly them. 
“Let’s fuck em up then.” Ellie said, moving the boat near the house so you could go inside. 
Grabbing your your rifle out of your backpack you moved closer to them, they haven't seen you walk into the building yet, one of them was standing by the broken window looking for you and Ellie.
Aiming your rifle at her head, you pulled the trigger, her body fell to the ground. You heard more running down the stairs, aiming your gun at them you quickly shot them as well. This was easy. Too easy.
“(y/n)! watch out!” Ellie yelled
You turned around quickly, just in time to move out of the way when a man swung his hatchet at you. He grunted when he missed you, Ellie started shooting at him but missed when she was attacked by another guy, “Ellie!” you yelled out, you wanted to help her but you had to get past this guy first. 
You ran back, keeping distance between you and the guy in front of you, aiming your rifle at him, you pulled the trigger but it clicked empty. “Fuck.” you grumbled when the guy started walking towards you. You threw your rifle at him, hitting him in his face, you almost wanted to laugh at his expression. 
You grabbed both your swords out and waited for him to attack. He came towards you with a scowl on his face, swinging his hatchet at your head, you dodged it and swung your sword at his arm, cutting him deep with your blade. He cried out in pain but that seemed to piss him off even more, he lunged at you without swinging his hatchet this time but you already knew you won the fight when you saw his angry expression. Anger makes you stronger but it also made you dumber. He almost reminded you of yourself yesterday.
You ducked down and moved behind him, giving him no time to react you stabbed your sword through his back, the blade moved through his chest, he gasped and fell to the floor when you pulled your sword out. 
Turning around, you ran towards Ellie, just when you were about to help her she already stabbed the guy in the neck, making him grunt in pain. She pulled her knife out, blood splattered across her face making her cringe in disgust. 
“Fuck.. I hate these assholes.” she grumbled, wiping the blood away. 
“Me too.” you said, moving towards her you grabbed her face, noticing that she a cut on her cheek. 
She noticed the worried look on your face, grabbing your hand that was resting on her cheek she assured you that she was fine. 
“At least it’s not deep, it won't leave a scar on your pretty face.” you said, making her blush. “Even if it did, you'd still be the most beautiful girl.” you said, winking at her before you went back to the boat, leaving her standing there blushing.
She blinked a few times before snapping out of her thoughts, you always decided to tease her at the worst moments. Shaking her head, she followed you out.
You found an old arcade and were now looking for a way out of there. Happy about getting away from the storm for a second, your clothes were sticking to your skin, uncomfortably.
You were looking for supplies when you heard a load crash and Ellie’s scream. You pulled your sword out thinking she ran into infected or something you ran out of the room to find a large hole in the floor that hasn't been there before. “Ellie!” you ran towards the hole, looking down you found her laying there, grunting in pain “I’m fi- oh fuck!” she got up quickly “fucking bloater!” she cursed before running away. You saw the bloater go after her, groaning.
Your heart was beating so fast you were sure it would jump out. Putting your sword back, you prepared a molotov and lit up the rag before jumping down, grunting when pain shot through your ankle. 
Ignoring it, you ran towards the bloater and threw the molotov at him, lighting him up. His attention immediately turned to you instead of Ellie. He started walking towards you but Ellie grabbed her shotgun and shot him a couple of times, killing him. 
Looking at Ellie you were just about to ask her if she was alright when you saw two infected jump down from the second floor, rolling your eyes you grabbed your swords out “they are mine.” you said, Ellie moved out of the way watching you, one infected ran towards you while the other one still struggled to get up. You stabbed it through it’s chest, his movement stilled and you pulled your sword out, splattering blood on your clothes in the process, moving towards the other infected, just when he was about to get up, you swung your sword at it’s head, the blade cut clean through his neck. 
Shaking the blood off your swords you put them back. Turning around to look at Ellie, you noticed her staring at you “that was..kinda hot.” she said, scratching the back of her neck. 
Snorting at her “you think me being all wet and covered in blood is hot?” you asked, not realizing the way it sounded until you saw her smirk at you. 
Shaking your head, you turned around to move upstairs and search for a way out. 
“You gotta admit, that did sound kind of wrong..” you heard Ellie say from behind you. 
“Whatever..”
After some struggles with the boat and a tidal wave almost drowning you and Ellie you managed to find your way to the aquarium. 
“You okay with facing her again?” you asked Ellie, eyeing her in worry. 
“I should be the one asking you this but yeah I just wanna finish it.” she said, looking through the broken window before jumping inside.
You followed her inside, looking at her, you noticed she was staring back at you, silently asking you if you were okay with seeing her again. 
“I’m gonna be fine Ellie.” You assured her, squeezing her hand before moving further inside.
“hey, we can go crawl through here.” you pointed to the vents. 
“yeah that could work.” Ellie said, moving towards it, she crawled inside. 
Following her inside, you started crawling.
Suddenly you heard a weird noise and Ellie stopped crawling “oh.. no.” she grunted before the vent broke and she went falling down. 
“Fuck Ellie!” you called out, crawling faster towards the hole when you suddenly heard barking. Jumping down, you saw the dog on top of Ellie barking and trying to bite her, you quickly grabbed your knife out of your belt and stabbed the dog, throwing it off her. “Are you okay?” you asked, helping her up. 
“yeah, stupid dog.” she grumbled. 
You looked down at the dog sadly, you used to love dogs. 
“alright come on.” you said. 
You walked through an empty room, checking it out before moving into the next one. You found a bag laying on the floor, moving towards it, you crouched down and looked inside, finding a familiar necklace, it had a firefly on it and the name Owen Moore.
Your father used to have one of those too, he always had it with him, even after they kicked him out. He died with that stupid necklace around his neck. 
“hey what you got there?” Ellie asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, she came up from behind you.
“uh firefly necklace, belongs to that Owen guy.” you said, giving it to her. 
She examined it before throwing it back into the bag. 
“Let’s keep moving” she said, before leaving the room. 
You went after her, stopping in front of a door. You heard muffled voices coming from behind that door. Glancing at Ellie you nodded your head, telling her to go in. 
She opened the door quietly and walked inside with you behind her, you saw two people fighting they were talking about Abby. You definitely recognized them both from that day. 
Just when the women was about to leave she spotted you and Ellie, gasping, she backed away, alerting Owen who looked surprised at you two standing there. “Hands up!” Ellie ordered, aiming her gun at them. They did what she told, putting their hands up.
Pulling your sword out, in case any of them tried anything, you stood next to Ellie. 
“Where’s Abby?” Ellie asked, pointing her gun at the women.
You glanced at Owen who seemed to study your and Ellie’s faces. Realization struck his face “you two are from Jackson.” 
“Tell me where she went!” 
“How do we know you won't kill us?” the women asked, with a shaky voice.
“You give her what they want’s and we’re both dead.” Owen said.
“You guys can survive this, we just want her.” you said, hoping they would just tell you where she was, you were tired of killing people. 
“Bullshit.” 
Ellie pulled her map out, looking at the women “you. come here.” she said calmly.
“Fucking get over here!” Ellie said with an angry voice. 
The women went over to her, with a scared look on her face. 
“point to where she is on the map.” she said “and then you.” she pointed her gun at Owen “and it better fucking match up.” she said, aggressively.
“Okay..” the women said, looking at the map “what are you doing?” Owen asked angrily.
“She's probably dead anyway!” she exclaimed 
“It’s not worth it.” he said, moving closer to her “back off buddy.” you said, pointing your blade towards his neck, he immediately stepped back.
“point to where she is.” Ellie ordered, her voice was heavy, rage and anger filled her. You felt it radiating off her, you don't think that you have ever seen her this way.
“fucking point!” she yelled at the women, pointing her gun at her, Owen tried to move past your swords and grab Ellie’s gun but you were faster than him, you kicked him in his stomach making him gasp, he clutched his stomach, stepping back.
You heard the women yelp at the sight of you attacking Owen.
He straightened up and tried to punch you but you dodged his fist and threw a punch at his face, deciding to get this over with as quick as possible you stabbed your sword through his chest. He gasped out in pain, looking into your eyes in horror, you couldn't help but stare back into his eyes, you realized how terrified he looked. A shiver ran down your spine at the way he was looking at you. He started falling down to his knees, the weight pulling you down with him when he fell. Pulling your sword out you let him fall back. Looking down at him in shock you looked down at his dead body, his eyes still open. 
“oh no.. no...no..!” you heard Ellie mumble from behind you “oh fuck..” 
Turning around slowly you looked up at Ellie who was clutching her stomach while walking backwards, she looked like she was about to have a panic attack.
Looking down on the floor where the women was laying dead on the floor, you noticed her stomach. She was pregnant. Your eyes widened and then looked at Ellie who fell down on her knees. 
“Fuck...” you sighed, getting up you ran towards Ellie, dropping down on the floor in front of her, you grabbed her face in your hands “Ellie...”
She was sobbing, trying to catch her breath. “fuck Ellie.. breathe with me” you said, grabbing her face with one hand you made her look at you and put her hand on your chest “breathe with me Ellie.” you said, she nodded her head, feeling your heartbeat and your chest move under her hand. She tried to take deep breaths, your touch and your voice immediately managed to calm her down.
“You're doing great baby.” you whispered, pulling her closer when her breathing got slower.
You were so distracted with calming her down that you didn't hear the door open or the footsteps coming your way until you heard your name being called. Looking up you found Tommy and Jesse standing there, looking around you.
Jesse looked at the pregnant woman in shook, while Tommy made sure that Ellie was alright. He helped you get her up “come on, let’s get out of here.” he said. 
You grabbed Ellie’s hand and started to pull her out of the room. She turned to look back “come on, don't look Ellie.” you said, grabbing her waist you guided her out, glancing at Owen’s dead body one last time.
You weren't sure if you would recover from this. If Ellie would recover from this.
You have killed before but never like this. You would never forget the way he looked at you when you stabbed your sword through his chest. 
You always told yourself that you only kill when it’s absolutely necessary but was it necessary this time? You could've just knocked him out but you didn't. 
You were done with this, you didn't want to do this anymore. 
You just had to kill one more person. Just one person and then this all would be over.
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shreddedparchment · 3 years
Text
A Wife For Thor Pt.01
10/12/2020
Arrivals and Departures
Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,990
Warnings: language, talks of death, angst, talks of sex,
A/N: This is seriously...I mean, I don’t even know where this came from. Credits to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ because Roo gave me the idea and I kinda ran with it. Like omg, y’all. Blame Roo. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo Dialogue from Thor Ragnarok has been used in the beginning of this story.
Please do not REPOST my stories anywhere. Reblogs are most welcome!
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He stands with his arms crossed in what appears to be a small sitting room with a large window that opens to the sublime sight of the black space beyond. Sterling silver, radiant red, and brilliant blue stars twinkle into infinity.
This is a sight that Thor had seen many times before and yet, for the first time in an age, he felt hopeful for the future.
His fight had ended. With Ragnarok, his journey had reached an end. Not the end, but certainly that of a chapter I which his battles might rest.
He imagines that this might be how his father felt when he had taken charge of the nine realms.
However violent that takeover might have been, his father had lied about many things—his sister for one—it had been the beginning of a quieter reign. A new formative time for his father. He may not have been a perfect man, but he’d grown wiser in many ways. Still not the best father, but his father, nonetheless.
Thor can almost picture his life on Earth, a time of peace. A time to rebuild. He will be able to give his people a good life there and he’s certain that his friends will appreciate having him closer. Friends from work they may be, but friends.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, standing beside him with his hands held gently at his front.
Thor looks at him, waiting a moment to allow him to finish speaking.
“Yes, of course.” Thor assures him. “The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”
Loki takes a breath, looking out the window as he quickly accepts his brother’s reasoning while simultaneously realizing he must word this differently to get his point across.
“Let me rephrase that.” Loki begins, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”
Thor knows that Loki has a point. His history with Earth is…not perfect. To say the least.
“Probably not, to be honest.” He admits, noting Loki’s apprehension.
Loki smiles, a little knowing.
“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor tells him, both turning back to the void outside. “I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”
The moment seems endless, the two of them waiting as if the something should or might happen after Thor’s optimistic sentiments.
Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.
“Right, well, I’ll start rounding up the people who will be of the most use once we arrive.”
Thor gives his brother one parting smile but doesn’t watch him leave.
Thor doesn’t know exactly what has changed in him, what makes him so confident in this decision, but he knows it’s the best decision he could have made. And if he’s honest, though he’d never admit it out loud, the possibility of finally being on the same planet as Jane…well, he’d be a fool not to consider the possibilities.
~~~~~~~~~~
Something feels different today.
As you wake, turning onto your side to stare across the small room at the blinking line on the blank word document on your computer screen, you can’t quite put your finger on what is making you nervous.
Your stomach is rolling, making you queasy, despite the fact that you have no reason to be anxious.
Yesterday was like the day before and today will be just like yesterday. Nothing in your life ever changes, and that’s become so much of who you are that whenever you have even a doctor’s appointment your heart begins to race in dreaded anticipation.
With trembling hands you clutch your blanket, trying to find a reason behind this mood. Your breath quickens as your heart panics, your mind scrambling to make sense of these emotions but nothing comes to mind.
So, you get out of bed. You get dressed choosing a simple knee length black dress that fits loose enough to keep you comfortable throughout the day. Then you head into the kitchen and start the coffee pot.
Halfway through the brew you shut the machine off and rush to dump out its contents into the sink.
“Fuck.”
You sigh, realizing you should really invest in decaf coffee for morning just like this.
“Tea. Tea is better.” You rationalize and pull your kettle off the warmer and fill it in the sink.
You replace it in its dock then turn your back to it, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you lean against it.
Your fingers stroke the smooth and unvarnished wooden countertop, suddenly going rigid around the lip as your heart goes frantic again.
The island counter directly in front of you is made of the same unvarnished wood, a slightly mismatched chair on the other side, tucked in beside the open shelving that holds your pots and pans. Along the center of the island sits a small vase with nearly completely withered flowers.
You’re filled with relief as your hands are given new task and you hurry forward and take the clear glass vase, toss the flowers—which crumble as they hit yesterday’s empty cereal box—dump the water in the sink and quickly refill it.
Setting the vase aside, you pull open a drawer and pluck from an array of contents a small packet of flower food, a pair of small pruners, a long piece of twine, and head out the back door to your modest backyard.
There isn’t much in it, and it’s unfenced. A large tree at the back-left corner provides shade and pecans. In the center of the yard sits a set of antique iron work garden furniture. Twisted and shaped into what reminds you of lace. Two smaller chairs and one long bench with curved backs.
You’ve been of a mind to buy cushions for them, but you haven’t found an excuse to justify the expense.
In between the garden set sits an outdoor coffee table made of wood and painted white. It’s fading and will need a new coat soon but again the expense can wait. At least until you sell another story.
Apart from this set and a small wooden shed beside the pecan tree, your yard is mostly overgrown grass and carefully cultivated flowers lining the length of your narrow back porch.
You smile, noticing the length of your grass, grateful for another something to keep you busy today. Something to keep your mind off this mysterious and anxious premonition of something to come.
Quickly you move to a large blooming bush at the end of your porch and cut from it several bunches of pink and blue garden phlox.
You admire the shade of the blue flowers. The color reminds you a pair of blue eyes you’d once seen on a woman who’d come to your school as a child.
She’d been beautiful and kind, but she hadn’t picked you. Still, you’d never forgotten the color of her eyes.
The pink is pastel at the edges of its petals and vibrant magenta at the center.
As you head back in, the kettle only barely beginning to steam, you quickly arrange the bunches you’ve picked and wrap them up with the twine. You set the bushel aside and with the vase pulled close, you tear the packet of flower food with your teeth and pour it in.
Replacing the flowers, you give the kettle one more look before you race back into your bedroom to pick out a more appropriate outfit for cutting the grass.
You decide on a pair of jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt. Pulling them on, you pause with your shirt hooked around your arms as your eyes find your laptop screen, annoyingly black still.
With a groan you pull your shirt on and from the kitchen you hear the whistle.
Breakfast is simple. A store-bought muffin and a cup of breakfast tea do the trick and while you’re still chewing your last bite you head out to cut your grass.
It doesn’t take you too long and you lament the last bit as you cut it, the machine vibrating violently in your nervous grip.
No matter how much you try to distract yourself, this feeling of something terrible coming will not go away and you’re about to go out of your mind when a shout from your back door pulls your mind from it.
Standing there is an older man with an unconventionally handsome face. His lips are thin, cheekbones prominent, brown eyes sunken, and his nose long and defined. His dark hair slicked and parted, neatly kept to match his crisp navy suit.
“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” You shout at him as the whirr of the machine dies into silence.
The man moves towards you, a smile brightening his face.
“I was just at a meeting.” He explains.
“Do you ever stop working?” You wonder, pushing the lawn mower towards the shed as he follows.
“Only when I’m on vacation.” He tells you, amusement in his voice but subdued and you only hear it because you’ve known him for years.
“You don’t take vacations.” You sputter, almost laughing.
“Precisely.” He agrees.
He waits for you to shut the door and when you turn, he greets you with open arms.
“How have you been?” He asks, holding the hug for longer than you’re used to which only adds to the anxiety you’ve been feeling all morning.
What’s going on?!
“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, ignoring his question in favor of satisfying your curiosity.
He doesn’t answer but holds the hug a moment longer before pulling back to look at you.
“We have to talk.” He tells you, making your heart pound.
“Okay. You want some breakfast?” You offer, and swallow hard as your fear mounts.
“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.
You make him a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, breakfast sausage, and buttered toast with a cup of coffee. Just because you can’t stand the idea of being hyped up on caffeine today doesn’t mean David won’t.
He digs right in while you stand on the other side of the island, sipping on your second cup of tea in hopes that it will ease your frayed nerves.
For a few minutes he gobbles down your food but when you shift on your feet for the fourth time, he clears his throat, takes a drink of his coffee, then puts his fork down.
“It’s not exactly bad news.” He assures you, easing you a little but something tells you that you still won’t like it.
“Just tell me, David.”
“As your lawyer,” He begins, sitting back in your old wobbly chair. “It’s my duty to inform you when there are developments with your family’s estate.”
“Right.” You agree, remembering the day he’d found you when you’d turned eighteen to tell you that you weren’t exactly as poor as you’d thought.
You’re not really rich either. You have a little money that your parents set aside for you. Old money that you hadn’t really touched. You use it mostly for bills when you can’t sell a story fast enough and most of your wealth is in this cottage. A family home that you’d had no idea was yours until David brought you here.
Finally, a home, after living in that school all those years.
“Well, I think it might be time to reveal a little more of that estate’s history.”
“Why?” You put down the floral porcelain cup and wrap your arms around yourself, afraid of what he’ll say.
How did you know that something was coming? What kind of sixth sense do you have?!
“After all this time, why would it matter?” You sigh, moving to pull out the second chair to his right on the shorter end of the island.
“Don’t panic.” He tells you, reaching over to place his hand over yours. “Let’s keep our heads. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“You say that, but why do I feel like that’s not exactly true?” You sigh.
He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.
“I think I’ll tell you all at once. Like ripping a band-aid. Might be the easiest for you.” He realizes.
You don’t disagree.
“Your family comes from a very small people in Europe. Their origins are hard to trace but we know that they travelled between France, Norway, Denmark, Romania, Belgium, Sweden, Austria, Greece, and even spent a large amount of time in hiding in the United Kingdom.”
“I get it, they were nomads.” You sigh, your mood taking a turn from the anticipation of clarity.
“Yes. Nomads.” David agrees, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. “I only mention it because there are many questions as to where they had originated from. No one seems to know. Unfortunately, I don’t think that question will ever be answered as all records before their stint in France have been lost.
“What we do know is that your ancestors, your bloodline are royalty.” David says, as easily as if he were telling you your age. “Even though the titles have long since been lost, you are technically—though you have no country to rule over—a princess.”
Slowly his words sink in and your face begins to relax. You look down at his hand over yours and without warning you laugh once. Then again, and again, until you’re leaning on your chair, head thrown back as your whole body shakes with it.
“What is so funny?” David asks, unamused but he goes back to eating.
“This is a joke, right? You’re pulling my leg.” You gasp, breath shallow.
“Not one little bit.” He shakes his head. “If we knew what country your ancestors came from, you would very much be in some palace or castle, reigning over your people. Your parents, were they alive, would have been King and Queen.
“You may not think it possible, but that is your legacy, Y/N. You are of royal blood.” David insists which sobers you a little, but you think it’s so silly that this is what you’d been so scared of.
This is what you’d been dreading?
“Okay. Fine. I believe you. But what does it matter? You said that if I still had a country then I would be princess, but clearly, I don’t. So, I’m not. What’s the point of telling me this when it makes absolutely no difference to my life?
“I don’t feel any different and it’s not like that makes me any richer? I’m still sitting on a decently sized fortune to assure that I don’t want for anything at least until my forties. What could this possibly change that you felt it necessary to tell me?”
David wipes his mouth with his napkin, finishing up the last bit of his coffee before he gets up and with his dirty plates moves towards the sink.
“Leave it, David. I’ll clean up later.” You watch him, sitting up a little straighter as that anxious feeling begins to grow again with his extended silence.
He washes the plate and as he does, your nerves begin to fray again. You anxiously pick at a small splinter in your island, waiting for him to speak.
He turns towards you as he finished washing his plate, then meets your eyes.
“You weren’t just revealing my heritage, were you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt I needed to reveal your heritage because someone has reached out with the hopes of setting up a meeting with you.”
“Why would anyone wanna meet with me simply because they know of my lineage?” You wonder, slouched, hands moved to your lap to rest limply as you stare at David, fear increasing with every moment that passes.
“May I ask you a personal question?” He says, moving to stand closer as he dries his hand on your dishtowel.
“David, you know everything about me.” You sigh.
“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked if you-?”
“To be honest, I don’t know either.” You shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Not even as a child?” He wonders.
“I was too busy wishing for parents as a kid.” You clarify. “I didn’t have time for crushes or any of that stuff.”
“Are you opposed to a relationship?” David asks, dropping the towel then moving around to sit back down in his seat.
“Opposed?” You ask, shaking your head. “Not exactly opposed. I’ve just never known anyone worth caring about like that. I’m mainly here at home. I do go into town when I need to get my packages but there isn’t anyone there that…I don’t draw attention like that.”
“You’re a pretty girl.” David tells you, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. “When you aren’t sweaty and covered in grass clippings.”
You scoff, shaking your head.
“It’s not something I really worry about.” You admit.
“Would you ever want to get married?” David asks, and your heart is suddenly pounding.
The idea of being someone’s wife had crossed your mind once or twice. Mostly when you’d been jotting down ideas or plotlines for your books. In the end, because you didn’t think you had enough insight, you’d opted to remove all romance. You write mysteries.
“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.” You confess. “I’m not…I can’t exactly picture myself being someone’s wife.”
“Why not?”
“Because I…I don’t even know what I’d be like in a relationship, sharing space and time, much less sharing an entire life?” You shake your head. “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it but it’s only ever been in passing.”
David goes silent, tapping his index finger against the island.
“David, please. You know I can’t take the suspense.” You plead.
“Yes. I’m sorry.” He nods then reminds himself, “Band-aid.”
You take a deep breath and turn to face him a little more in your seat.
“Well, you are aware of our planet’s newest inhabitants?”
“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”
“Yes.” David nods. “Well, as a sign of good faith, to ensure that they will abide by Earth’s laws and to assuage any ideas from panicked world leaders that they might try and overtake the planet and make it their own, they have decided that marriage to someone from Earth might be the best way to do that.
“The Asgardian known as Brunnhilde has reached out to all families of royal blood and asked to meet with any eligible women, preferably—as she so tactfully put it—maidens.” He explains. “Which I take it you are?”
You swallow hard, your lungs rubbed of oxygen and yet you somehow manage to quietly acknowledge, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”
How can you not be after spending your whole life unconcerned with romance?
“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” David suddenly says; however, you can see the ‘but’ in his eyes. “But if you don’t and the Asgardian king cannot choose from the women he does meet, you will probably be hunted down and forced to meet with him anyway.
“All world leaders are in agreement that this is the correct and only way to ensure the safety of the planet. They will not give up until every woman meeting the Asgardian’s requirements have been given the chance to meet with Thor.”
“Thor?!” You gasp, rising to your feet as hundreds if not thousands of images flash through your mind of the Thunder God and the Avengers fighting side by side.
“Yes.” David affirms, rising to his feet with you. “With the death of his father, he is now King of Asgard.”
Of course, Thor is going to be King. You already knew this. It’s common sense.
For some reason though, the confirmation made out loud, vocally…how the fuck are you supposed to marry Thor? An Avenger? That’s not…this cannot be real life!
“David,” You begin, apprehensive.
“I know. I know it is a lot to ask but as I said, I don’t believe we have much of a choice. He might very well not pick you.” David adds, rushing to comfort you and point out how unlikely you’d be the one Thor chooses to wed. “There are plenty of other women that he’s already met with. Women that are more suited to life in a palace than you are. The Hungarian princess is so eager to be Queen of Asgard that she’s been sending the other women bribes to try and convince them to refuse.
“It won’t make a difference, since they cannot refuse should Thor choose them.” David admits.
“A-all I have to do is meet with him?” You stutter, heart in your throat.
“Just a quick one-hour meeting. He’ll ask you questions. Get to know a bit about you. See if you are suited for life as Asgardian queen and then it’s over.” David assures you.
“I’m…There are lots of other women better for it, right?”
“Loads of them.” David promises.
New fears begin to take hold in your heart and mind.
It conjures up the last time you’d seen Thor, strutting from a massive spaceship docked over the ocean by New Asgard. He’d risen from its depths all wide shoulders and biceps. Heavy steps thudding as he’d stopped at the end of the massive ramp, waving at the cameras as his people had filed out behind him.
His hair cropped short as opposed to the long tresses he’d had when he’d last been on Earth, one eye missing with a sleek black and gold metal patch over it the absence.
You’ve never been threatened by him before. He’s a hero. But the prospect of being his wife and having wifely duties...
Your mind flies into panic as it shifts that large body over you, crawling towards you with his hands prying your legs open. The years of sexual experience radiating off of this fantasy Thor and all of his bulging muscles.
You almost want to throw up at the prospect of having to consummate a marriage. You haven’t exactly been eager to be with anyone since you haven’t met anyone special, but you’d at least imagined something more intimate. More personal.
“David I-they won’t choose me though, right?” You reach out for him because your legs are suddenly weak.
He takes hold of your arms and helps you stand still.
“They won’t.” He tells you, sounding convinced. “There are better candidates. Women with actual titles.”
He’s right. Of course, he’s right. He has to be right.
“It’s just a quick meeting.” He promises. “Then it’ll all be over, and you can come back to your cottage and live just as you have been, with no one to bother you.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Leaving your little place is difficult. After spending years without a home to call your own, now that you have your cottage, tearing yourself away from it is like pulling splinters.
You like your little yard. You like your flowers. You love your bed and its white sheets, little pink and yellow flowers printed on the soft fabric.
You’d made it more feminine. You’d brought flowers back and frills and lace. You’d made it everything you thought a cottage at the edge of a wood should look like and as time had gone by you’d brought in more personal touches.
After several years, your home is finally completely you.
This place, this massive Asgardian structure is less gold and more wood, stone, and iron. Silver steel polished so bright it gleams even in moonlight. This place is not you. It’s him. It’s Thor. His home.
Right now, with the day almost over, the palace takes on a warmer tone. The wooden structures and gray stone pillars are bathed in orange light, giving the place a pleasant glow and despite yourself, you can almost picture Thor meandering through these Nordic halls, a long crimson robe around his thick form.
It isn’t an unpleasant image now that you’ve given yourself some time to get used to the idea of him.
When you arrived you were greeted and seated in a large round room, the lower quarter of the sturdy walls made of ornate stone brick, the rest of the wall beautiful dark oak. The floor is also stone, massive carpets underneath several pieces of obviously Norse inspired furniture.
Well actually, the Norse was probably derived from Asgardian styles. There’s a difference in them that you can see but don’t understand. The coffee table in front of you has ornately carved legs, golden embellishments, and a black coat of paint.
The sofa you’re sitting on is mostly wood, painted gold, with plush and soft satin covered cushions in wine red.
There are two other tables around the room, a collection of books on one and an array of fruits, foods, and drinks on the other. There are several different statues and stands. Lamps that look as if they should have flames instead of the electric bulbs they now hold.
Small touches of modern design filter through the room complimenting the more traditional décor.
“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.
You recognize it and turn to find Loki, slipping through a narrow opening in the large set of doors you’d been escorted through almost half an hour ago.
He’s dressed in a black suit with a plain white t-shirt underneath dressing the look down.
“H-Hi.” You stammer, surprised by his appearance.
You stand, knowing well that he may not be King but for Asgard, Loki is still a prince.
“No, please. Do not get up on my account.” He gestures at your seat and you settle back in as he crosses to the table with all the books. “I forgot some papers in here, I only came to retrieve them. Do not mind me.”
You avert your eyes, afraid to see something you shouldn’t and sit just as stiffly as before, hands fisting the royal purple dress you’d chosen to wear. It’s simple, quarter sleeves, high neckline with a small V at the center. Just above your knees in length, it rises as you grip it.
“Nervous to meet my brother?” Loki asks, stopping by the doors as he eyes your tight grip.
“This whole situation is a little stressful.” You admit. “I’m…I live in a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“Ah, you’re the one with the lost lineage.” Loki realizes, moving closer with interest. “A hidden princess. You could have refused to come, you know?”
“I would have been forced eventually.” You point out. “There are a lot of people who want this marriage thing to happen.”
“True.” Loki agrees, “My fault, I’m afraid. I make them nervous.”
“You did very nearly destroy New York.” You point out, remembering the carnage reported that day. The aftermath had taken forever to clean up.
“I did.” Loki agrees. “Do you fear me?”
“No.” You admit. “If you weren’t safe, Thor wouldn’t have brought you back here.”
“He could just be too trusting.”
“Maybe.” You agree. “But with the fate of his entire people tied to the successful acclimation of Asgard and Earth, if you were really a threat, I think he’d have cut you out before coming back.”
Loki’s lips slowly curl up into a smile before breaking apart into a toothy grin.
“What is your name again?” He asks, a sparkle of something in his eyes.
“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”
“No reason. This has been very illuminating, Y/N. It was lovely to meet you.” Loki says then with a quick bow of his head, he leaves you to your solitude.
Confused, you sit there completely at a loss for what just happened.
Had you taken too many liberties with Loki? What had that smile meant? You’d been made aware that Loki was also involved in recruiting women of royal blood into marriage meetings for Thor, but you hadn’t expected him to know you by the description of where you live.
Maybe because it’s so unlike anyone else’s?
You sit there stewing for another twenty minutes, wondering if maybe you’re being stood up when the large doors open once again.
You shoot up onto your feet, so damn nervous your body reacts without your permission. Through the door this time comes the man of the hour. The massive Thunder God dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain gray t-shirt crosses over to the table with food and pours himself a stein of what looks like beer from a sloshing brown pitcher.
“Estrid, is this from the new batch of ale?” He booms loud enough that he can be heard even outside of the room as he takes a quick sniff of the liquid.
His voice is so deep.
Licking your lips, you watch him drink the entire stein without taking a breath or waiting for an answer, and then refill it before grabbing it and taking an apple with his other hand.
He turns, holding the fruit up to his mouth and freezes with it pressed to his lips as he meets your eyes, realizing he isn’t alone.
You’re not exactly sure what to say or what to do, completely taken aback by this strange and sudden exposure to candid Thor. Both of you unprepared to see each other despite the fact that you’ve literally been waiting nearly an hour for him.
His confusion mounts as he lowers the apple, looking around as if expecting an explanation or to see if he’s in the correct room.
“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, meeting your gaze again.
“N-Nearly six.” You tell him, and his one good eye goes slightly wide.
“Oh!” His lips curl up into an easy smile. “I did not think it was that late.”
His smile makes you feel a little more at ease, but you’re still on edge.
“You’re my meeting.” He tells you, as if you don’t already know that. “Y/N? Y/L/N, right?”
“Yes.” You nod, then before you can stop yourself… “You’re late.”
Thor blinks. Startled it seems or maybe just surprised, but then he smiles again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“I mean, you can be as late as you’d like. This is your meeting. Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t know why I said that.” You rush to say.
“No, no.” Thor turns to put down his stein of beer and the apple replaced in its bowl. “You’re right. I am late. We were supposed to meet at five, weren’t we?”
When he turns back to you, you nod.
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have much you could be doing.” Thor says, moving towards you and gesturing at the spot you’d been in before sitting down at the other end of the sofa.
“No.” You confess. “Not really. I’m actually one of the only people that probably doesn’t have much to do. Well, I mean, I could be writing. Or cleaning house.”
“They tell me that you had no knowledge about your lineage before Brunnhilde reached out to your lawyer?”
You nod. “It’s not really important. Or…no. That’s not the right-what I mean to say is that it isn’t significant to my life.”
“Don’t you want to know who your family is?” Thor wonders.
“I know who my family is. I had a mom. And a dad. Both died just after I was born. That’s my family.” You explain. “Apart from getting to meet you, the news that my family was once royalty doesn’t change it in any way. I’m still just as insignificant today as I was before.”
Thor narrows his brow, watching you for a long torturous moment as he considers what you’d just said.
“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly says, turning to lean back against the arm, his own thrown over the back, right leg bent up onto the sofa.
“There isn’t much to tell.” You admit. “I was born, my parents died in an accident. I was taken to a school for orphans where I grew up and aged out. On the day I had to leave, Mr. Valis found me and gave me my inheritance which is a good amount of money and a small house. I’ve been living there ever since.”
“You didn’t take any additional schooling?” Thor asks, relaxing. “All the other young women I’ve met have made it a point to tell me about the universities and colleges they’ve attended.”
“I took a few correspondence classes.” You tell him, “But I’ve only ever wanted to write, and I didn’t feel that I needed a higher education to do it. I mean, it would probably look better on my resume, but my writing should speak for itself.”
You can’t really tell what he’s thinking with the way he’s watching you, his hand playing with a thread on the back of the sofa.
You take it as a good sign that many of the other women have a degree of some sort. They must want someone respectable with a good education, right?
“How do you feel about political marriages?” He asks, and you’re stunned for a moment.
“Um…”
“Be honest, please.”
“I guess I don’t like the idea?” You admit. “Being forced to marry someone you don’t love because duty demands it? Feels archaic. If you love someone, whether they fit into whatever political standards are being demanded or not should not be a reason to get married.”
Thor sits up, shifting a little closer as he leans towards you.
“If you were asked to go along with a political marriage in every way but the heart, could you?” He wonders, much more interested than before.
“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.
“Well, let’s say for example, you and I were to marry. We’d be expected to have children. You’d be bound to do your duties as Queen of Asgard, but you would not be required to love me. Would you be able to fulfill these requirements?”
“You don’t want to do this, do you?” You realize, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. His shoulders slump. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just say something?”
“I must do what I can to ensure the future of my people.” Thor says, sighing deeply.
“I’m guessing there’s someone else you do love that you can’t marry?”
“Not that I can’t but won’t. She isn’t ready for marriage and I don’t feel right making that kind of demand from her when she clearly has other things she’d like to be doing with her life. And…yes, maybe a little bit can’t. A royal marriage would make the most sense. I need a Queen.” Thor says.
You can’t find the words to tell him how fucked up this all is so instead you sit in silence.
“I know this is not ideal. I’ve tried to find other ways of assuring Earth of my commitment to this planet but nothing I’ve suggested is good enough.”
He needs a Queen. This gives you solace. No one is less of a queen than you are.
“I’m sorry.” You finally tell him. “It’s not fair. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who checks all those boxes for you. I hear the Hungarian princess is pretty eager.”
Thor ignores you, stroking his beard as he watches you. “What do you want from a marriage? Let us say it’s many years from now and you have found someone you love beyond all reason. You two decide to get married. What does that look like?”
You’re a little surprised by the question but you humor him and take a moment to really think about it.
The man you picture has no face. There is no one you care enough about to imagine. So…because he’s the only option, you take Thor’s face and give your imaginary husband a face.
“We’d be partners.” You tell him. “Open about everything important. We would respect each other’s individualities. If something is troubling me, I would like to know that I could turn to him and if he had something on his mind, I’d hope that he could turn to me too.
“We’d be honest about even the unpleasant aspects of our life together. If we disagreed, we would talk about it openly. We wouldn’t hide from each other. We’d spend as much time as we could together and always make time for each other.”
You picture Thor sitting at your island in your comfy cottage. He’s so massive that he’d take up so much space. You’d have to squeeze past him, and he’d turn to wrap his arms around your waist as you pass.
He’d trap you there, not letting you move.
“We’d make breakfast together. Cramped up in my little kitchen, it would turn into play.” You smile. “We’d lounge around the house, reading and listening to music. In the evenings we’d move out to the backyard and watch the sun set then watch the stars until I’d fall asleep on his shoulder.”
As if you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be, you startle yourself out of your daydream and feel your neck heat up.
You’d crossed from rational marriage into sentimental and you’re a little shocked at the detail in which your mind has gone.
You’re also a little startled by the pleasant feeling that picturing Thor in those situations has given you.
For someone who has never had a crush, you’re startled by the butterflies it gives you.
“But I’ve never been into anyone like that before.” You tell him, looking away from his intense gaze. “So, even if that’s what I picture, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen.”
“It might.” Thor says, sounding as if he might be trying to comfort you.
“It won’t.” You assure him. “I hope your girl changes her mind.”
There’s a bitter ache in your chest as you say it, and you’re certain it’s only there because of the little fantasy you just allowed yourself to have. You should have picture someone else.
“I hope they relax on the royal blood thing and let you marry someone you love instead.” You hope.
“You say that as if you already know that I won’t pick you.” Thor observes.
You smile wide, laughing even as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m nothing like the girls you’ve met with. I don’t have endless amounts of money. I don’t have a prestigious education or extensive family. I don’t know anything about being royalty. The others have been doing it their entire lives. I’m the least likely candidate. I don’t fit the requirements, except for the bloodline thing.
“I only agreed to meet with you because I knew that the likelihood of you picking me was almost non-existent.”
“Ouch.” Thor says.
“No!” You rush to say. “You’re very…I mean, you’re kind from what I can tell and honorable. You’ve saved Earth a couple times and you’re a little self-centered but only in a superficial way that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man.
“I honestly don’t know why your girl won’t marry you but I’m not right for this.” You nod. “I wouldn’t make a good Queen for you.”
Thor nods slowly, thinking for a minute before he straightens up and turns to rise, slapping his hands on his knees before he moves back towards the table of fruit and beer.
“You’re probably right.” He agrees, and for some reason, you’re disappointed.
Not so much that he isn’t picking you, but rather that he sees you aren’t enough. You’re lacking in some way. Which you already knew but…knowing he thinks that makes you feel a little lousy despite that being something you wanted.
“I suppose I’ll just have to pick someone more suitable. Someone who knows better about ruling a people. All the same, thank you for coming.” Thor says, dismissing you.
He picks up his stein again and turns to look at you as you rise.
“It was a pleasure to meet you.”
You nod, “Likewise.”
After a moment of hesitation, you give him a wave and move for the doors, trembling hands reaching out to yank the doors open and make your escape.
~~~~~~~~~~
It’s been weeks since you met with Thor and you’ve completely forgotten the whole thing. Life has gone back to normal and even though you now know that you’re from royal stock, nothing, as you expected, has changed.
The only plus that has risen from this whole situation is that you can now picture marriage a little better, however inexperienced and cliché it might be, you can make something up now.
Your little fling with the idea of Thor had given you fuel to slip a little romance into your writing and your fingers are flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you type up a new and promising mystery about a set of lovers and the body they discover in the attic of their new home.
You hate to be interrupted during a writing session, but you must have forgotten that about yourself because your phone starts to ring.
Normally you mute it before you even sit down to write.
With a growl you reach over and take a quick look at the number.
David flashes on your screen and quickly you swipe to answer.
“Hey, can I call you back in like an hour? I’m in the middle of a chapter and I’m on a roll.” You plead, fingers still flying across the keys.
“Y/N, Thor chose you.” David’s voice says and your fingers freeze.
There’s a pounding in your chest and your head is full of white fuzz. Your legs are numb, and your stomach is swirling with both flutters and nausea.
You can’t have heard that right.
“What?” You ask, voice shaky.
“Thor. He chose you. I just got off the phone with Brunnhilde and she wanted to let me know so that I could call you and let you know that she’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up.”
This can’t be happening.
“She said to pack only what you absolutely need. Everything else will be provided for you.”
“David…I…I can refuse, right? I don’t have to marry him.” You plead desperately.
“Y/N…” David sighs. “You agreed to this before you went to see him. I’m afraid the time to back out has come and gone.”
“But I can just not do it.” You argue. “They can’t force me to do it.”
“The government will seize your assets if you refuse.” David explains. “They want this done. I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s no backing out of this now.”
“But…But he loves someone else.” You tell him and even though your mind knows that this should be the last thing to concern you, it should not be the first reason you can think of why marrying Thor is a bad idea, it is.
As your eyes focus on the little blinking line of your word doc, your heart gives a painful ache knowing that your husband will be loving someone else.
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skiesofthesketchy · 4 years
Text
Stood Up {1}
Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader
Summary: You have a date with your friend that you’ve liked forever, but he never shows up.
Note: Heyyyyy Please read the warnings before proceeding. This is one of the darker things I’ve ever written, and it might trigger some people so please be careful. I’m usually a fluff writer but I’ve been feeling... ya know, down lately so this is what I made. I’m working on the second part to Unsend still, but haven’t been in the mood lately so sorry it’s taking so long!
Let me know what you think! :)
Word Count: 6.5k
Stood Up: {Part 2} / { Part 3}
WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst
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WARNINGS: Violence and abuse! sexual violence! trauma! swearing, angst
***
Y/N’s P.O.V.
10:00 PM
I pulled my sweater tighter against me when I felt a small burst of wind, the chill making goosebumps surface on my bare legs. I looked left and right down the black street, but nobody was around. It was quiet, almost silent besides dried leaves scraping against the pavement, and the only light was the orange glow from the street lamps and the red neon sign above my head casting onto the empty street. It was a nice night, even with the cool breeze, but I could feel my nerves kicking in.
I tried to remain optimistic though. Maybe he’s just running late... I pulled out my phone again to see if JJ had texted me back, but he hadn’t.
On my way! See in you 20 :)
I sighed, looking at the last text I sent him. I only sent it hoping to remind him that we had plans tonight in case he forgot. He always forgets. 
‘He’s just a forgetful person,’ I tell myself for what feels like the thousandth time. It’s usually that phrase that makes me feel better, or ‘He’s got a lot going on.’ I never make it a big deal when he misses our plans, even though it feels like a small piece of my heart breaks off and dies every time it happens. 
‘This time is different though,’ I told myself. It was just yesterday that I mentioned the movie theater was showing a bunch of Quentin Tarantino films this week. I tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal, just a fun thing me and my friends could all do together, but I was truly very excited about it and really hoped they’d be down. 
“Are they showing Kill Bill?” JJ asked with a smile. The other pogues didn’t seem interested but I was happy that JJ was. 
“Yeah. Tomorrow night actually,” I shrugged.
“We should go.”
I smiled softly at him. “Sure, if you want to.”
He chuckled, blue eyes lighting up as he poked my cheek. I knew he could see right past my nonchalant demeanor. “That’s your favorite movie ever. Of course I want to go see it with you! My treat.”
I ignored the fluttering in my belly, but couldn’t hide my smile. He remembers my favorite movie and wants to watch it with me. “You don’t have to pay for me,” I shook my head with a laugh. I didn’t expect him to, but the fact that he offered made my chest warm. JJ doesn’t have much money to begin with, and with what he does have, he usually spends on weed and beer, necessities in his daily life.
“No, no,” he tsked, bringing me into a hug. My giddy grin was thankfully hidden in his chest. Being this close to him always makes me feel lighter than air, warmer than the summer breeze. “You’re my girl. Let me take you out,” he finished, chuckling into my hair. 
I felt heat rise to my cheeks, like I always did when he called me his girl. I nodded in agreement once I pulled away from his embrace. “Ten o’clock tomorrow, okay?”
“I’ll be there,” he replied, saluting me with a wink before turning to join the conversation the rest of the pogues were engaged in, leaving me to internally gush about going on a date with the boy I’ve liked since forever. 
Maybe it wasn’t a date, or maybe it was. I didn’t really know, but I didn’t care as long as I got to spend time with JJ. It really did feel like this time was different. My thoughts swirled, wondering if he likes me back. Wanting to take me to a movie makes it sound like he likes me, right?
Date or not, I wanted to look nice, so I spent more time getting ready than I normally did. I experimented with some light makeup, trying to make it subtle but still pretty. I left my hair down after making it look somewhat decent, something I hardly ever do because my go-to is always putting it up. I even picked out a dress to wear but made sure to choose one that JJ had seen me in plenty of times. I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard, but still hoped he would notice my appearance and think I looked pretty. 
10:10 PM
The movie started ten minutes ago, and still no word from JJ. I glanced down at my shoes and hugged myself tighter. ‘Maybe he did forget... again.’ I didn’t want to believe it, giving JJ the benefit of the doubt like I always did. But he still wasn’t here.
Yo are you coming? I sent another text.
I was really excited about tonight, not just because I’d be seeing one of my favorite movies in the theaters as if it was premiering for the first time. Now I just feel... heavy. Like I’m carrying the weight of the reality I should’ve realized a long time ago. If I was important to him, he would remember our plans.
My frown deepened. That’s what it comes down to, right? If he actually cared about me, he would be here, or at least tell me he’s not going to make it. Constantly forgetting our plans is a huge sign that he doesn’t like me the way I like him, that I don’t matter to him enough to follow through. It’s a sign I’ve been ignoring even though it’s been there the whole time, blaringly obvious and all too painful. 
No. JJ does care about me, even if it’s just as a friend. He’ll be here. He told me he would be.
10:20 PM
Spinning around and looking at the movie theater entrance, I thought about going inside and watching the movie anyway, but I suddenly wasn’t up for it anymore. This sick feeling in my gut was all I could think about. 
Of course JJ doesn’t like me. Why did I get my hopes up so high when all he’s ever done is not show up? It hurts. It feels like something crawled up inside of me and slashed its claws at my dumb, naive heart. Its terrifying and hoarse voice whispering in my ear, “What did you expect?”
Perhaps this is my fault; letting myself fall for someone that doesn’t feel the same. JJ Maybank: one of my closest friends, the biggest player on the whole damn island, and the most emotionally unavailable boy I’ve ever met. Of course I had to fall for him. I’m a fucking idiot. 
I slumped my shoulders, feeling defeated and tired. It’s like I was tossed to the side without a second thought, much like the trash lining the curb. My throat tightened with the emotions threatening to pour out in sobs, but I held them back. It’s not his fault. I’m the one with these stupid feelings, waiting around for him to feel them too, but he doesn’t. 
10:30 PM
I checked my phone one last time, still nothing. With a deep sigh, I started walking towards the direction of my house. I focused my attention on my sandals hitting the sidewalk, each step feeling like another crack in my heart. 
‘You’re fine,’ I told myself. ‘Don’t cry. You’re fine.’
But I wasn’t, and I felt the stubborn tears brim my eyes. I turned the corner and this street was much darker, the street lights dim and far apart. The sound of someone else’s footsteps pricked my ears, and I kept my head down to hide my frustration and the sadness running down my cheeks. I wanted the footsteps to belong to JJ, finally showing up but just a bit late. I knew better though, and didn’t bother looking up. 
“Well, look who it is. A little pougie.” I halted in my tracks, my eyes flicking up to find his cold ones, and I shot him a glare. As if I needed something to make my night even worse. Fucking Rafe.
“Not even gonna say hello?” he asked. I kept my posture stiff and my stare hard, trying to act tough even though I was most certainly in a vulnerable state.
“What are you doing here, Rafe?” Rafe was predictable in the way that he lived to torture me and my friends. That’s the only reason he’d ever be caught dead in The Cut.
He stopped right in front of me, his tall frame dark and intimidating. Even under the blanket of night I could see his eyes were bloodshot and a sickening smirk lined his lips. He ignored my question as his eyes dragged up and down my body, making my stomach twist and skin crawl. “Where’s the rest of your dirty crew?” he spat.
“You’re lucky they’re not here.” I kept my tone steady, but I could feel my hands start to shake and an uneasy feeling settled inside of me. I need to get out of here. 
With hands stuffed in his pockets, he leisurely walked around me, eyes still glued to my bare legs. “You look pretty,” he whispered. “Were you on a date?” 
“No.”
“Then why are you all dressed up, darlin’?” His gaze met mine again when I spun around to face him, and with the way his features slightly softened, he probably noticed that I had been crying. “Oh. You were stood up, huh?”
Is it that obvious? “No,” I snapped. 
He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer to me, and I took a step back. “His loss.” Then he just stood there staring at me while I was lost in a sea of confusion. Is he trying to be nice?
“Well. It’s been not so nice talking to you. I’m going home now.” I turned around to escape this unpleasant conversation, but I was spun back around with the man’s grip on my arm. 
“Don’t leave. I’m not done talking to you.” I felt fear creep under my skin as I looked up at his face again, hardly able to make out anything but his eyes. He wasn’t asking, he was demanding. 
“Leave me alone.” I tried to snatch my arm out of his grasp, but he pushed me into the brick wall of the building we were in front of. 
The sudden movement caused me to stumble and twist my ankle. “Ow! Rafe, what the fuck!” I felt the pain shoot up my leg, but couldn’t focus on it for long. Rafe’s menacing features had panic surging through my veins as he came closer.
I pressed my back into the hard wall trying to separate myself as much as I could from the man towering over me. “You’ve had a rough night. Let me make you feel better,” he said. He stepped into me, his chest pressing against mine as he looked down at me.
“Get the fuck off of me,” I choked out. 
His wicked laugh fanned over my face and I felt angry tears fall. “Come on, little poguie. At least I actually want you.” His words seemed to drive a knife into my chest. JJ doesn’t want me, but I don’t have time to think about that right now. I can hardly think of anything right now. 
My palms rose to his chest, but he caught my wrists in his hands, keeping me from shoving him off. He laughed again, and the realization that Rafe isn’t sober washed over me like a tidal wave. What have I gotten myself into? “Let me go!” I screamed.
He shut me up by forcing his mouth onto mine. I screamed against his lips but he pressed into me harder. I started thrashing my body under the weight of his, but his hold became tighter. He brutally clutched both of my wrists into one of his large hands while the other came up to slap over my mouth, cutting off my cries.
“Just let it happen, darlin. Enjoy it,” he whispered into my ear. Hot tears ran down my face as I felt his lips on my neck. He sucked harshly on my skin as I squirmed, trying desperately to escape, but I couldn’t. Even if I couldn’t, I would die trying.
His mouth attacked my throat while I struggled between him and the wall. With the adrenaline pumping through my body, I used all of my strength and pushed him as hard as I possibly could. With the few inches I created between us, I picked my leg up and stomped my heel into his foot. 
I prepared to bolt with the time I had bought myself, but a second later he was landing a ruthless slap to my face. I registered the burning pain as he pinned me to the wall with his body again. “Oh, now you’re really gonna get it, pogue.” His sudden anger shook me to my core, his sick laugh echoing in my ears like a fire alarm. 
His hand landed on my thigh and dragged along my skin, pushing my dress up higher and higher as I felt the screams get caught in my throat. I dug my nails into his arms but he wasn’t bothered. He kissed me again and I took his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard until I tasted blood.
He yanked his head back, face twisting in rage. Even with his violating hands still searing into my skin, I brought my knee up into his crotch, and he yelled in pain. I didn’t waste any time and took off running, but I was yanked back by my hair. 
“Fucking bitch!” My head throbbed as I crashed to the ground, feeling my elbows scrape the pavement. I was seeing stars as I felt Rafe’s weight drop on top of me, his form straddling me. I threw my fists wildly into his stomach and chest, desperately trying anything to escape him, but I knew my efforts were becoming futile. His ring-clad fist connected with my cheekbone and a sob crawled its way up my throat.
“Stop!” I screamed. His hand suddenly grabbed my throat, cutting off my cries once again. I clawed at his skin to get him to stop, but he only increased the pressure on my esophagus until I couldn’t breathe, and I squeezed my eyes shut. My world was spinning and my terror didn’t let me register the pain anymore, only the horrendous realization of what’s happening to me taking over my thoughts. 
After what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds, I felt his breath fan over my face from where he hovered over me. “You’re not fucking worth the trouble.” He released my neck and I felt him get off of me, but I dared not open my eyes. I was too scared of what might happen. It surely became known when I felt a sharp kick to my stomach. I whimpered, then he landed another kick to my side. “Nobody wants you now! Nobody will ever want you! You’re just a dirty little pogue,” he seethed. 
“Fucking bitch,” he spat again, and I heard his heavy footsteps as he stormed off, leaving me on the ground in pieces. 
11:00 PM
I finally sat up, finding the strength to put myself together again, but was pulled into a coughing fit, my throat burning. I wish I could say I was numb, but I was brutally aware of the torment my body has been through, of the emotional trauma I’d have to live with. 
I carefully stood to my feet but folded in half with arms wrapped around my stomach, clutching myself in pain. Everything hurts. I forced myself to straighten, holding back the tears. I felt broken in every way possible, but I willed myself to figure out how to get help.
I picked up my bag that had been tossed to the ground and rummaged through it for my cell phone. With a heavy heart, I called the one person that I needed more than anyone.
But of course, he didn’t answer. More tears were shed, even though it felt like I couldn’t possibly cry anymore. “Answer, goddammit,” I sobbed. I called again. “Please, JJ. Please. I need you.” Again, the call went to voicemail. 
I let out a wail of anguish. Even with nasty bruises already forming on my skin, the loud shatter of my heart is what hurt the most. He’s never here. Even when I need him. 
I didn’t even want to call anyone else. My ankle, my face, my stomach, my throat. Even though I was shaking in pain, I wanted to wallow in my heartbreak alone, so I slowly started walking again, and limped all the way home. 
***
JJ’s P.O.V.
“How was the movie last night?”
I stretched my arms over my head with a yawn, barely registering what John B. asked. “Huh?”
He chuckled and sat next to me on the pullout couch in the living room where I slept. “You got back pretty late last night. I’m guessing you and Y/N had a good time?” Now I’m thinking it’s not just my sleep induced brain that’s making me so confused.
“What do you mean? I wasn’t with Y/N,” I groaned while rubbing my eyes, the sunlight seeping through the windows too bright and annoying.
“What do you mean, dude?” His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes suddenly flashed with anger. “You were supposed to take her to a movie last night.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I grumbled, getting even more annoyed. He doesn’t have a right to be pissed at me, not when I have no idea what he’s even pissed about. It’s too fucking early for this shit. 
John B. stood up with a sharp laugh. “I can’t believe you forgot again, man. Seriously?”
I sat up, my anger matching his now. “You wanna tell me what this is about?” He shook his head before looking at me again, baffled. 
“Y/N? Kill Bill? You guys had a date planned.” 
I glared at him before realization finally hit me. I slapped my hand to my forehead. “Fuck. Was that supposed to be last night?”
He shook his head again. “You’re unbelievable, really.” I sighed. It was an honest mistake. At least I know she’ll forgive me. She always forgives me. 
“I’ll fix it. I’m sure she won’t be mad.” John B. rolled his eyes. “And it wasn’t a date, by the way.”
“Yeah? Did you tell her that?”
“Stop talking in riddles, man. What the hell do you mean? Of course she knows.” He hit me on the back of the head, reminding me of my headache, the dreaded hangover starting to take effect. “Hey! What was that for?”
“She likes you, idiot! No idea why, considering you’re just a dick that doesn’t bother to show up to the plans you guys make.”
“Is this why you’re yelling at me? She doesn’t like me, dude. Not like that,” I rolled my eyes. I could punch him for getting on my case over nothing. Y/N doesn’t like me, and missing plans has never been a big deal. I just want to deal with my hangover in peace.
“You don’t deserve her. And she doesn’t deserve your shit,” he said, walking away into the kitchen. 
“You’re getting mad over nothing. Fuck off,” I grunted, head in my hands. I need coffee and advil. His yelling is making my headache worse.
He sauntered back into the living room, throwing a bottle of painkillers at me, too forcefully if you ask me. “Just tell me, if you weren’t with Y/N, what did you do last night?”
I smirked, remembering the events that took place. “A hot blonde that I met at the boneyard,” my smirk widened. I expected some sort of congratulations from my best friend like usual, but I was met with a scoff and a water bottle being thrown at me.
“You’re a prick. You know that?” 
“And you’re an asshole. What do you want from me?”
“Whatever, dude. Let’s just hope Y/N forgives you this time,” he snapped, walking away and finally leaving me in much needed silence.
“She will!” I yelled after him, hearing his bedroom door slam shut.
I sighed before gulping down the painkillers for my headache. I grabbed my discarded shorts from yesterday on the floor and grabbed my phone out of the pocket. I had forgotten that I put it on Do Not Disturb mode after the hot blonde and I left the party. Girls like it when you give them all of your attention, and aren’t distracted by calls and texts. 
I sighed again when I saw the text’s from Y/N.
9:36 PM: On my way! See you in 20 :)
10:10 PM: Yo are you coming? 
I sure feel like an asshole now. I hoped that she would’ve watched the movie without me anyway, but considering she called me twice at 11:00, she probably didn’t. I feel even worse now that I can see she waited over an hour for me. I typed out a text to her, but I wasn’t sure how to word this apology.
Hey, sorry I missed out last night. Got held up :)
I opted for keeping it nonchalant, not wanting to make this a big deal. I’ll make sure she knows how sorry I am the next time I see her. I’m not worried though. She’s the only one out of the pouges that doesn’t get mad at me when I do stupid shit, and she always forgives me. This time won’t be any different.
I laid back down with my arm covering my eyes, and I thought about what John B. said. Y/N doesn’t like me. She’d be stupid to like a fuck up like me. No, no, we’re just friends, and have been for years. I laughed at the thought. 
John B. was right about one thing, though. I definitely don’t deserve her. She’s way too good for me, especially when I’m not good to her.
***
Y/N’s P.O.V.
I stood in front of the mirror and peered at my naked body in the reflection, tears spilling down my cheeks for what felt like the millionth time. 
My eye was swollen and bruised, a cut on my cheek from Rafe’s ring. Large spots of sickly green and deep violet stained my torso. Dark rings around my wrists from his tight grip. A lighter purple ring wrapped around my neck from where Rafe’s hands had cut off my breathing. 
My hot tears dripped from my face and landed on my collarbone, bringing my attention to the hickeys littering the side of my neck too. I wanted to vomit. I could take the physical assault, but that’s not all this was. He violated me. Kissed me. Sucked on my neck while his hands traveled under my dress. 
Going to the police was a thought that bounced through my mind, but I couldn’t, not yet at least. I was much too unstable. I needed support if I was going to report it, but I still hadn’t told anyone what happened. I spent all of yesterday locked in my room, letting myself wallow in the pain.
JJ had texted me yesterday morning, apologizing for not showing up. A simple text wasn’t enough this time. He texted me again that afternoon.
I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you. Please don’t be mad at me :(
I wasn’t mad. I was heartbroken, and didn’t bother responding to that text either. If he had shown up, I wouldn’t have been assaulted by Rafe. If he was there, we would have been happily watching my favorite movie, eating snacks and probably laughing at the gore displayed on the screen. If he was there, I wouldn’t have been crying in the dark streets alone, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I could have been raped. That I was almost raped.
The other pogues were trying to get a hold of me yesterday too, inviting me to their plans, but I never responded to anyone. I didn’t want to face them, or anyone for that matter. I didn’t even think I wanted to tell them what happened. It was all too much, and I didn’t want to relive it by telling anyone what Rafe had done to me. Not to mention it would add even more ammunition to the war between us and the kooks. 
I don’t feel any different today, still just wanting to curl up in bed and be alone for probably forever, but I don’t have that luxury today. My mom had left for work this morning before I even woke up, but she sent me a text asking me to run some errands. When I protested, she gave me the whole lecture on how I only ever spend time with the pogues and never help out. I didn’t have a choice. 
With one last glance in the mirror, I wiped the tears off my face and started getting dressed. I had to cover the bruises somehow, but makeup was not going to do the trick. Despite the hot temperature outside, I threw on a large sweatshirt over my sports bra. If I put the hood on, nobody would notice the disgusting marks lining my neck. I found a pair of my mom’s oversized sunglasses and they covered enough of my face to hide the cut on my cheek along with the black eye. I put on shorts and shoes and grabbed my bag before looking in the mirror one last time. Nobody would notice.
***
JJ’s P.O.V.
“Have you guys heard from Y/N?” Pope asked the group. “She hasn’t responded to any of my texts for like two days.” I frowned. At least I wasn’t the only one she was ignoring. I thought that she was probably still mad at me for bailing on our plans, but since she isn’t responding to Pope either, maybe she’s just busy with other things.
“No, I haven’t,” Kie answered. “Pretty weird, right?”
“Yeah, I wonder what’s up.” Pope’s face looked concerned suddenly, and I found my own expression matching his.
“Why don’t you ask JJ here,” John B. said, tone sharp with annoyance. Kie and Pope both whipped their heads towards me, eyebrows raised in question. I just scoffed, turning my attention back to waxing my board.
“What the hell did you do?” Pope asked. His accusing words pissed me off. Who said this was my fault?
“Nothing, okay? I just forgot we had plans, and--” I was cut off by John B.
“No surprise there,” he mumbled under his breath. 
Kiara sighed, her disappointed eyes casting down on me. “Seriously, JJ?”
“What? You guys can’t pin the blame on me! I got distracted, it wasn’t my fault.”
John B. scoffed and I wanted to punch him, much like yesterday morning. “Yeah, what was her name again? The distraction, I mean.” I rolled my eyes. 
“Come on, dude. Not cool,” Pope added with a shake of his head. With all three of them staring at me in dismay, it felt like my friends were attacking me. It’s also like they knew something I didn’t. Why is everything always my fault? 
“Stop turning it into a big deal. I just forgot, okay? I already apologized, so it’s fine.”
“So she forgave you?” JB asked, eyes narrowed like he already knew the answer.
“Well, no...” I let my head drop, looking down at the golden sand with all of our beach gear. “She never responded. But come on, this is Y/N we’re talking about! She never stays mad for long.” The words were meant to get my friends off my back, but I found myself taking comfort in them too. I had never really seen Y/N mad before, but if she actually was mad at me, I hoped she’d let me make it up to her and forgive me. I let myself believe that everything would be fine.
Nobody had anything else to say, only sighing and turning their gazes away from me. I felt the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach, but at least they dropped the subject. I’m more upset that this might actually be my fault. ‘Y/N isn’t the type to get mad easily,’ I reminded myself again. But she’s also not the type to ignore her friends. My mind drifted, wondering if she’s okay. 
“Eat up, boys,” Kie said, taking a stack of sandwiches out of the cooler she brought. We all sat down on our towels and started eating, but I couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N from my mind. Maybe I should text her again.
Hey. We’re all at the beach having lunch if you wanna join us. Even if you don’t, that’s ok. Just let me know you got this. We’re all worried about you. I’m worried about you...
I typed it out, but couldn’t bring myself to send it. If she really is ignoring us, I’m sure it’s for a good reason. Maybe it’s best to just give her space. She’ll reach out when she wants to. Whatever the reason, though, I really hope it’s not because of me. She’s the one person I can always count on to be on my side, and I don’t know what I’d do if I was the cause of her distancing from us.
“Oh, no way. It’s Y/N!” Pope interrupted my thoughts. My head turned to see where he was looking, and sure enough, it was my girl, passing through the boardwalk.
Pope was up on his feet and ran to her, calling over his shoulder that he’ll bring her over to us.
***
Y/N’s P.O.V.
“Y/N! Hey!” I stopped in my tracks when I heard my name being shouted, and I noticed Pope running up from behind me.
“Oh, hey Pope,” I said, trying to swallow down my nerves. I didn’t plan on running into my friends here. I didn’t need them finding out about what happened the other night, so I put on a half-hearted smile, trying to act normal, trying to act okay.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked with a laugh, pulling me into a bear hug. I held back my wince from where he grabbed my sides, the bruises there shooting pain through my body. 
“Oh, ya know,” I gulped. “Just busy with my family.” I was glad that my sunglasses were dark enough so that he couldn’t see my eyes. If he could, he’d know I was lying within seconds. “Sorry I’ve been M.I.A.”
“It’s alright. Come on. We’re having lunch right now.” He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the beach, and the other pogues sitting together on the beach came into my focus. 
My eyes widened. “Uh, no, Pope. Sorry, but I have to go.” He stopped and gave me a weird look. “I... I’m running errands for my mom,” I shrugged, hoping he would let me go so that I don’t have to talk to the others, talk to JJ. 
“Just come say hi then. Everyone missed you!” He tugged my hand again, but I didn’t budge from where I planted my feet in the sand. 
“No, Pope. Really, I have to get going.” I didn’t have any other excuses up my sleeve, and I could feel my resolve coming undone. He gave me another weird look, probably wondering what the hell is going on with me. I wanted to tell him. I did, really. But I was not ready to talk about it. I didn’t need him or the others seeing what I looked like under this sweatshirt, or the black eye I was sporting under my glasses. I knew it would only cause more problems, more rage, and I couldn’t handle that right now. If anything, I just needed a hug.
“Is everything okay?” I looked down at my feet and sighed, trying to muster up the strength to lie to one of my best friends. When I looked back up to him, he had sent a look towards the pogues, and they all got up and started making their way over.
“Yes, Pope. I’m fine,” I breathed out a laugh, trying to cover up my panic. “I gotta go, now. Really.” I turned around to run away, but I was too late. The pogues had already crossed the beach and were surrounding me. 
“Y/N! Hey, we missed you!” Kie smiled, pulling me into a hug. Again, I had to hide my grimace from the pain that engulfed me so that my friends couldn’t see. I knew I couldn’t keep up this act for long, and I felt my heart sinking further into my chest.
“Yeah, I’m glad we ran into you,” John B. smiled with a nod in my direction. His expression was soft and kind, and it strangely made me feel like he understood that I wasn’t all the way okay.
“There’s my girl,” JJ’s voice rang through my ears. He looked relieved, and pulled me into his chest, squeezing me tight. This time, I wasn’t able to hold in the small noise that escaped past my lips. When he pulled away, he looked down at me with concern. “You okay?”
I pushed him away. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I couldn’t put on a half-assed smile this time. He’s the one causing my pain. The one that bailed on me. The one that wasn’t there when I needed him, leaving me alone and in broken pieces on that horrible night.
“Why are you wearing a sweatshirt?” Kie laughed. “It’s like one hundred degrees out here.” I just shrugged my shoulders, even though I was dying under the heavy material and the heat of the sun. I looked over my shoulder down the boardwalk, trying to avoid their worried glances, especially JJ’s. I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I couldn’t bear the weight of it for much longer.
“Yeah, what the hell? It’s burning hot out here,” Pope added, and pulled my hood off my head. 
“Pope, don’t,” I said. “I have to go.” I turned away after putting my hood back on and started walking, not even caring that they definitely know something’s wrong now. I just need to get away before I break down.
JJ was the one to catch up to me, leaving the pogues behind us and sharing worried looks. “Y/N, wait.” He grabbed my wrist, and I winced at the contact. “I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry for missing our plans. I got held up with a touron, and you know how it is. She was so hot, how could I not go home with her?” he laughed. Looking up at him, I felt my heart shatter all over again. Of course. He wasn’t with me because he was hooking up with some girl. This fucking hurts more than the punch Rafe landed to my face, and I felt anger swell inside of me.
“Come on, you’re not mad at me, are you?” He smiled, bringing his hands up to cradle my face. He was being his charming self like usual, which is precisely the reason I even fell for him in the first place. But his cute dimples and bright eyes aren’t going to fix anything this time. If anything, they’re just another stab to my chest.
He could sense I wasn’t giving into him. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise,” he pouted. My lips parted to speak, but no words tumbled out. He suddenly ripped my sunglasses from my face.
“JJ, don’t!” His face dropped at the sight of my bruised eye. The glasses fell to the sand when he stepped closer to me, eyes scanning my face. I pushed him back, but he swatted my hands away.
“Y/N?” His features quickly turned from worried to angry. “What the fuck happened?” I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I held them back as I tried to push him away again. He yanked my hood off my head and I knew he was piecing it all together now.
He reached for the bottom of my sweatshirt, and my hands grabbed at his to try and stop him. “Leave me alone,” I yelled, but he didn’t. Despite my attempts to stop him, he had grabbed the bottom of my sweatshirt and started pulling it up over my head. “JJ, stop!” I yelled again, but I couldn’t fight him back anymore because it hurt too much. He had taken it all the way off, leaving me just in my sports bra, my beaten body on full display.
A series of gasps surrounded me as the other pogues gathered around us again, shocked and bewildered expressions on their faces. I watched JJ scan my body. His eyes lingered on the bruises on my belly before flicking to my face again, and then my neck. With the way his eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his jaw, I could tell he was examining the hickeys on my skin. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and the silence was deafening. 
“Oh, Y/N...” Kie whispered, eyes becoming glossy.
“What the fuck happened?!” JJ burst. His face was twisted in rage as his hands reached for me. I stepped away, but he grabbed my arms. “Who the fuck did this to you?!” I shook my head, trying to swallow the sob that was making its way up my throat. “Y/N, who the fuck was it?!”
“JJ! Lay off!” John B. spoke up. Kie had wrapped her arms around me, wanting to shield me from our angry friend. They could tell JJ wasn’t helping. 
John B. and Pope pulled at JJ’s arms to get him to step back, but he exploded even more. “YN! Tell me who did this to you!” Seeing his reddened face and furious eyes made my own burning anger swim to the surface.
“Stop yelling at her!” Pope told JJ, him and JB still holding the blonde away from me.
“No! I swear to god I’m going to kill ‘em. What the FUCK happened??”
“It wouldn’t have happened if you had bothered to SHOW UP!” I flared, my voice slicing through the chaos among the group. My heated gaze met JJ’s, and his entire face fell at my words, the rage washing away from his pools of blue and replaced with sadness.
Everything seemed to still at my outburst, even my tears. I watched as JJ crumbled beneath the weight of my words. As angry and heartbroken and hurt as I was, I wanted to see him this way. I wanted him to feel guilty. 
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t show up. I should've known you wouldn’t answer when I called you for help. Because you never do.” With every word I spat, I could see the effect they had on him. I kept my ruthless stare fixed on him. “Congrats on fucking some touron, though.” 
Everyone stayed silent as I picked up my sweatshirt and sunglasses from the sand. I glanced at JJ one last time before putting my glasses back on and turning around, leaving everyone behind me without another word. 
***
Read: Stood Up - Part 2
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